Carving Myocardium
by RustyPaperclip
Summary: Flayed up bodies were messy and evil guys had dead hearts. Knox, the body carver, gives human donations to Doc Barrows to help find the cure for ghoulification. He loves his job. And he's fond of things that can hurt him real bad. Like his bodyguard.
1. Chapter 1

_Note: Rating is for language, gory, bloody bits and some other things. I don't own anything Fallout…I merely write fanfiction for my own entertainment. And they're a bit OOC. Okay a lot. Just so you know, this story has an eventual Charon/LW. Yeah. On to the story. Oh and thanks for even giving this story a try. Hope you enjoy it!_

"Relax, smoothskin."

"Sorry, Doc," Knox murmured. He unclenched his fist and Doc Barrows pierced the skin. Knox watched the syringe fill up with his blood and then, the long needle left the wound. Nurse gave him a bandaid. He shook his head at her as he saw a droplet of blood swell over the wound. He caught it with his finger then put it on his lips, tasting the copper on his tongue. Doc muttered medical things and Knox zoned out. Sure, he was a doctor's son but he didn't care to hear all the crap. He knew what was going on and that was enough. Nurse smiled at him and he shrugged in response, sticking his tongue out at Doc's back. Nurse giggled. Doc Barrows turned to stare at him with questions tainting his otherwise calm face.

"What is it?" Knox asked. Doc frowned and asked him why he wasn't affected by radiation.

"You've been here for 5 months."

"Maybe Vault kids don't get irradiated easily?" Knox shrugged. "Look, Doc. I don't know shit. But you guys aren't walking toxic cans." Barrows quirked a small smile before he gestured for Knox to leave.

As he pushed open the door of the Chop Shop, Winthrop raised his nonexistent eyebrows and threw the cigarette he was smoking onto the floor.

"Took you long enough, smoothskin," he complained without venom, smoke curling out his mouth. He turned and headed to his 'office' which actually was the basement. Knox snorted and followed him.

"It ain't me. You know how the Doc is."

"How's it going then? The cure…" Winthrop's voice trailed off. Knox coughed.

"Hasn't said anything about it. I stopped asking cause it upsets him." _You know how the Doc is. _Win just nodded absent-mindedly as they entered the office. They set to work on the radiators again today. The rattling of old pipes and stench of older dirt sickened him in more ways than one. The good part of his conscience told him he was doing it to dig an early grave on purpose. Then the logical part of his brain told him he was better off arm wrestling Deathclaws. Winthrop had another cigarette between his lips, the soft glow of the flame made his face seem more grotesque in the red light. The twisted veins, the thread of muscles, the torn flesh painted a painful picture. The pang of hurt returned to clench Knox's heart again. He ran his grimy hands through his hair and excused himself out of the basement. Winthrop grunted in response.

He retreated outside of the museum where Willow smiled at him from the railing. Closing his eyes, he slipped a cigarette between his lips. He felt tense. He felt like killing things.

It was on his shoulders, wasn't it? The whole fucking world. Living among ghouls reminded him everyday of how he was letting them all down. The fucking cure… Everyone wanted it. When he first reached Underworld, he agreed to help Doc Barrows work on a cure for ghoulification. Nothing was moving, especially not the shitload of human corpses that he carved up for some human donations. Nothing was going well. Then again, when had anything gone well?

Since then, Barrows had done nothing but take a blood sample from him every day and night and advised him to quit smoking. Knox inhaled, letting the smoke fill him before exhaling. Willow leaned against the wall next to him. Her pale eyes roamed over his body, washing him with her signature quizzical look. Knox offered her a cigarette. She declined. He calmly asked her if she wanted his tongue down her throat instead. She laughed her booming laugh, the one that told him he was being an idiot. It seemed like Butch's techniques of getting into anyone's pants weren't working much outside the vault.

"Hey Doc. So, when can I go shoot stuff?" Knox said when he pushed open the door to the Chop Shop.

"I need you to inject, not shoot –"

"Inject. Shoot. Whatever."

"I have a few tests but I should be there with you –"

"No way, Doc. They'd gut you. I am using Roy's mask, ain't I?"

"After the last time? Mask or not, the ferals still attacked you when you injected the serum."

"Look, Doc-" Knox sat down on one of the cots.

"I am not giving you the field tests if you're just going to get hurt again. No arguments." Knox ran his fingers through his hair. Sure, he knew what happened the previous time. It was fine when he entered the feral ghoul sanctuary with the ghoul mask. He assumed from watching the ferals interacted that they did not mind a little rough manhandling from each other. It was almost affectionate somewhat. So, when he pierced a crouching feral with the serum, he didn't expect the creature to turn on him, causing the other ferals to pounce on him as well. He only barely managed to escape without killing the 'test subjects' and himself. "I know you think you can survive anything but you are the only smoothskin willing to help me in this. I need you alive. We ALL do."

"FINE, Doc. What would you have me do then?" Knox glowered, running a tongue over his lower lip before worrying it between his lips. Oh, he wanted to say many things but they weren't particularly nice to the good doctor. And the doctor was one of the very few good men in the Wastes.

Doc Barrows gave him a peculiar calculating gaze, tapping a crooked finger on his chin.

"Do you know Ahzrukhal?"

"Shit. Yes, doc. I live here don't I?" Doc Barrows gave him a very bemused smile.


	2. Chapter 2

"Smoothskin. Tell me again why we are here?"

"Because I need you to remind me I need to fucking do this."

"And what is this?"

"Get a bodyguard."

"And we are spying on Ahz why?"

"Cause he has a bodyguard and I want one. Cause Doc won't let me test his serum without someone else with me." Knox coughed. "This shit is messed up."

"And I am looking at the biggest mess in the Wastes." Win snorted.

"You know why I like you, Win? You remind me of my friends. One is a smartass bitch named Amata. The other is a smartmouth jackass named Butch."

"Are they ghouls?"

"Worse. Vault kids." Knox cast his eyes over the tall man in the corner of the bar. Didn't this guy ever sit down? On that note, did he ever take a dump or something? A flicker of a pale gaze focused on him. Knox, caught staring, turned to his cola and downed the whole bottle, burning his throat with the fizz. He closed his eyes, coughed then glanced at the tall guy again under his mop of hair. Shit. This was one person that he didn't mind being hurt by. It was the aura, really. That utter 'didn't give a flaming fuck'ness that he had. It was someone who wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger at his head if he stepped out of line.

"He's scary, Win," he said in a harsh whisper that he couldn't quite place as his own. Well, fuck. This wasn't the first time he was intimidated by that creepy shit. The bouncer's glare…stare...whatever that he focused on everyone in the bar was ten times worse than those Knox got for being a smoothskin and socialising with ghouls.

"Yeah, yeah. His heart's in the right place, though, for someone who's been programmed like that," Winthrop said, sounding mellow and a little bit pitiful. Sure, it wasn't the first time Knox heard that line from him. He wondered how Winthrop kept to that same face and tone while saying similar things. He wondered how Win knew that at all. Bouncer's gaze was on him again. He could feel the focus crawl across his back then dip down his spine. Knox marvelled the timely spikes of his own perception; they never worked when he was avoiding Deathclaws.

"Barkeep." Knox found himself nervously drumming his fingers over the counter, eyes shifting over to the towering bouncer who just upped the intensity of his gaze because he was standing near Ahzrukhal. Knox coughed.

"You should see Doctor Barrows about that cough. But get another drink before you do. What's your poison, smoothskin?"

"Your man in the corner." Ahz widened his eyes then a slow smirk made its way to his ruined lips. The soft plink of the glass mug on the counter alerted Knox that Ahz was pouring himself a drink. Knox stopped drumming his fingers on the counter, watching instead the crooked fingers curling around a bottle of whiskey.

"And how do you want him?" Uh. What? Tied up, choked and driven onto a stake. Killing the guard dog Cerberus. Breaking chairs and tables with a rusty fork. He shuddered at the images, though he'd very much like to see the last two scenarios. He met the barkeep's eyes for a moment before glancing back at the bodyguard. The bodyguard was watching him intently, hand discreetly pressed on the barrel of his shotgun. There was promised hostility in that gaze and Knox turned away.

"Uh. Alive." He coughed. "I wanna hire him."

"I've had him for so many years now. So long as he is my employee, he is as gentle as a teddy bear." Ahz tipped the murky mug on his lips. Knox watched his Adam's apple bob with the gulp of alcohol. His eyes flitted over to the bouncer again. Patches attempted to speak to the bouncer yet again and got shoved violently into a chair. _Talk. To. Ahzrukhal._ "His company is rather refreshing isn't it? But don't mistake his brevity for stupidity. That would be very unwise." He set the mug down. Knox realised he loved the smooth way Ahz spoke. "How do you intend to pay for him?"

"Uh. Caps? Or…" Ah well. Fuck it. "What is your poison, barkeep?"

"1000 for the contract." Ahz eyed him up and down while Knox forced himself to be still. With unexpected agility, Ahz grabbed his shirt and hauled him close. "Get rid of Greta for me, and you can have the contract for free," he rasped into his ear.

"Fuck no."

"Then 2000 caps."

"You said 1000-"

"I meant 2000."

Knox smouldered as he licked his lower lip. Shit. Were all bar owners major assholes? A low growl escaped his lips.

"You'll get your fucking caps."


	3. Chapter 3

It took another week to get enough to buy the contract. Knox did what he did best: shooting raiders, looting and scavenging. He hadn't eaten anything but blood packs. Then, still dirty, wounded and exhausted, Knox pushed open the double doors to the Ninth Circle. Ahzrukhal merely glanced at him. Knox grunted with effort, baring his blood-stained teeth to the barkeep. Silent, he slid the bag of caps across the counter to the waiting palm of the sleazy bastard. Ahz made a show of counting every cap and by the time he was done, Knox had gnawed a wound on his lower lip from holding back on his annoyance.

"Nice doing business with you," Ahz rasped, taking out a crinkled and yellow sheet of paper from the oversized safe behind the counter. The sheet of paper was frayed on the edges and even torn in some parts. Knox thanked the barkeep, realising that his hands were actually trembling as he held the contract. So, this was what it felt like to 'own' someone. The power in a piece of paper. Maybe this was why Moriarty liked hitting Gob. It was a rush of POWER to the head. Dominance. This feeling was akin to the satisfaction of his first successful kill with a BBgun. He splayed his hands over the contract, feeling the smooth roughness of old parchment. "I'll give you the pleasure of informing him," Ahz said. Knox stared up at the barkeep. For some reason, he had this urge to grin smugly at the bodyguard's former employer – HIS bodyguard's former employer.

Knox was against slavery but he could understand now, this desire to have someone in your possession.

He turned away from the barkeep and shuffled to the corner where pale eyes noted his every step. He had to convince himself he could hold that gaze now, cause he fucking owned the bloody contract. As he plonked himself down on one of the chairs, he studied his bodyguard openly. He was a ghoul, similar to every other ghoul with his melted skin and shiny torn muscles. Well… his muscles were more defined; it was plain to see this one was meant to kill, destroy or even protect. He exuded a different kind of energy. The veins popped out over the mess of raw flesh as he gripped his shotgun a little tighter. There was a very slight tilt of the head; an almost curious-looking expression shifted across his face and then it was gone. Interesting. Knox quirked a smile in spite of himself.

"You purchased my contract from Ahzrukhal?" Knox grunted an affirmative. His bodyguard gave him a once-over. The change in expression was obvious now; pale eyes wide and mouth slightly open. "So, I am no longer in his service." There was a faraway look in his eyes that was so out of place in that broken face. Then the tall guy grumbled and brushed past him to stand in front of the counter. They were… talking, Ahz and him. Knox couldn't hear what was going on but if this was a goodbye and appreciation speech, it was the most sparked with uncontainable edginess he had ever seen. He cast his eyes down the yellow paper at 'Charon', and then stuffed it into his undershirt, where it irritated the skin on his chest. He cringed when the scratches on his chest opened again, staining a corner of the paper. He lifted his face up to watch the goodbyes just in time to see shit hit the fucking fan.

For a split second, it was like being in Megaton's saloon all over again and it was him holding the gun as he watched the barkeep obliterate into a mess of wasted flesh. This time, the one holding the gun was a ghoul who had just murdered his former employer at point blank. When the next shot was fired, Knox was caught in the spray of crimson at the resounding bang. He stilled, focusing on threads of torn ligaments sliding down the wall. Fuck. This was his fucking bodyguard. His fucking bodyguard just destroyed his former master.

"Fucking, fucking shit."

"Mast-"

"You gotta do that to me one day, Charon. Like…fuck me up like that, okay." Knox slid out a cigarette from the packet of his pants, lighting it up skilfully. "And don't fucking hesitate."

Knox realised Charon just earned his right to get rid of him.


	4. Chapter 4

Doc was so upset that he couldn't even form a coherent sentence when Knox entered the Chop Shop. Nobody could blame him. Knox showed up after a week's disappearance having consumed nothing but blood and water. Win wasn't helping matters by telling him what Knox told him which was – 'out selling his body for caps'. No amount of 'I was kidding's made anything better. Doc had been frazzled for days because he was worried not only because of the potential cure but because Knox was invaluable to Underworld no matter how vehemently the smoothskin denied it. He was one of the many reasons why this place had become more homely. And now Cerberus had announced that Ahzrukhal was dead because Knox's new bodyguard blew his brains out.

"Kill that light," Barrows warned, pointing at the cigarette between the smoothskin's lips. Knox threw it on the floor and smothered it.

"It wasn't my fault Ahz was an evil bastard."

"It's going to be your fault if you died and –"

"I gotta get the caps cause you wanted me to get a bodyguard -" Knox bit down on his lips. Shit. This wasn't what Doc wanted to hear. "I just wanted the cure to work already, dammit." He ran his fingers through his hair, making him realise that he was shivering. Barrows let the shivering carry on a bit longer before handing him a plate of Mirelurk cakes. Knox obediently took one cake and started chewing.

"So the bodyguard?"

"His name is Charon," he muttered between mouthfuls.

"I know his name. He's…a piece of work. Be careful with him."

"He's awesome –"

"And he's not a toy."

"I think I understand the difference between a teddy bear and a killing machine." Ahz made that mistake. He wasn't going to. Knox swallowed the last Mirelurk cake. "So, the tests?"

"When you're all healed up." Barrows pierced his skin with the needle, pulling out an ample amount of blood. "You must rest before going out once again. No arguments." Knox stuck his tongue out at the doctor. "Am I the only doctor who gets this special treatment from you?"

"Only the ones that remind me of my dad." Yes, Doc Barrows was the only one who reminded him of Dad.

"I'm assuming your father was a patient man."

"Very patient." Barrows raised an eyebrow at him. Knox slipped out a cigarette from the packet and placed it between his lips. He didn't light it, just closed his eyes and chewed on the end of it. A memory of James surfaced in his mind. His very patient dad. "He was a good doctor." Barrows squeezed his shoulder and Knox opened his eyes to smile a rare, genuine smile at the doctor. "I'm sorry for making you worry, Doc Barrows."

"It's alright, kid."

Knox got up from his seat on the cot, rolling down his sleeve as he walked to the doors. He beckoned for Charon to enter. The tall ghoul entered the office, planting himself beside Knox in an alert fashion. Knox fought to keep the wave of intimidation down his spine at the proximity and at the obvious way Charon was standing guard in defending him. It bothered him to receive this kind of attention when he was the one usually giving it.

"Uh…Ease up, Charon. Erm. Take a break. Well, fuck. Just…take a seat." Charon merely ran his eyes over the smoothskin again before setting himself down on an empty chair, gracefully placing his shotgun beside him. His hands didn't leave the weapon. Realising that he was staring again, Knox busied himself with the open wounds he had on his body. He stripped out of his clothes and grunted a 'No' when Nurse offered to help him. "Hey man," he called to Charon. "You got any wounds I need to heal or something?" Charon grunted a 'No'. Great. Already something in common. Win entered the Chop Shop, lighting up his cancer stick. Knox still chewed on the end of his own unlit cancer stick.

"Smoothskin, we gotta clear up the shit you left in the Ninth Circle."

"Aww man. It was Charon's mess."

"And you're the master-"

"Don't you use that FUCKING term on me, again, ghoul," his gruff voice echoed in the room. Knox coughed and finally lit up the cigarette between his lips. "Sorry, Win. I'll be there." Knox sighed. "And he's not a dog on a leash. Or a toy. Or a fucking teddy bear." Knox inhaled, and then turned to Charon. The bodyguard was still passive. No expressions marred his face. Their eyes met and still no expressions showed on that face. Knox felt the crawl of unease at the back of his neck. He continued stitching the scratch across his torso, sneaking glances at his bodyguard, who was just watching him.

"At least you didn't call me a zombie, bloodsucker," Win said, sitting down beside his friend.


	5. Chapter 5

At the back of his mind, Knox realised he was in deep shit. The syringe was poised in his hand as he paced. Shit. SHIT. This was trouble. All the ferals were walking around being nonchalant about their boniness and he was here shitting bricks because these were 'test subjects' and he couldn't off them if they turned on him. He needed a better plan. He capped the syringe back and stuffed it into his pocket, jogging through his memory.

Stefan had been in a cage hadn't he? Stefan was a beautiful glowing feral test subject who was contained behind bars while an evil scientist injected things into him and controlled him with some fucked up shit in his brain that made ghouls blow up. Of course at that time, he had never met a glowing feral with a name like Stefan. He was beautiful with his shiny, glowing skin that darkened around his ribs and shoulder blades. Knox had brushed a palm over that skin and gotten the familiar tingling sensation of radiation. Stefan watched him, tipping his head like he was interested in a smoothskin like him. Then, the feral scratched him. You'd think a name would humanise a creature. (Yeah, like Moriarty.) He remembered thinking 'what a waste' as he saw the glowing one lying dead by his feet, still beautiful in death.

He realised he needed a prison of some sort. Lure one of the ferals into the prison thing upstairs in the museum and lock the cage while somehow plunging the needle into the feral. He needed restraints, like the ones raiders had. The many messed up things in the Wastes were going to help him. Great. He glanced at his ever stoic bodyguard who exuded a kind of boredom, while still managing to make him feel like he was in one of those observation cells in the Vault. Hey, the guy had probably spent years standing in the corner of a hellhole of a bar. Watching a punkass fret about injecting ferals wasn't that much more entertaining.

"Charon."

"What is it?" The flicker of a pale gaze ran over his face.

"Think you can hold off a feral from raping me?"

Bad fucking idea. He was separated from his bodyguard, running like a crippled radroach through the halls. The one feral was chasing him. He could hear the progressing flat footfalls following him. At least it was just one and not the whole horde. Sure it was a bad idea but it was working wasn't it? Okay, so around the next corner, up the stairs and he would reach the 'prison'. He banged the cell door open, the metal clanging against the wall. Fuck. That would surely alert many other ferals. He scurried his way up the stairs, feeling the fast swipes from a clawed hand right over his thighs. Knox yelped. He jumped over the railing, gauging that he would break an ankle when he landed onto the table. Sure enough, he heard the crack, then the echoing one as he broke a damned finger when he twisted his body over it. Pain shot through his body but he pushed himself up with a guttural growl and forced himself to move DAMMIT MOVE. He limped, jumped, ran to the still open door. Charon turned the corner. His heart leapt to his throat at the sight of his bodyguard. A territorial roar behind him spurred him on. He pushed himself, sprinting as best as he could to the cell door. Then the metal brushed the side of his shoulder as he collapsed just outside the bars. The grill clanged shut behind him as he came to himself, swallowing huge gulps of air and sliding a palm over his sweat-slicked body, patting around for lifejuice. His lungs hurt and his breath was noisy and erratic as he inhaled and coughed in between his exhales. When his working fingers felt the tip of a blood pack, he wrenched himself up and bit a corner of the pack, the first taste of crimson flooding his mouth. It calmed him even as it dribbled down his chin. He licked his fingers and he finally noticed his bodyguard staring down at him with something like curiosity. The trapped feral was doing the same but it was pressed against the bars, an odd grin on its face. Knox shuddered.

"Good job, man," he wheezed, coughing again. "Thanks for watching my ass." Charon nodded but stayed quiet. Knox licked his lips and slurped the rest of his lifejuice, ignoring everything else for the moment.

---

Holotape Log 1

Are ferals monogamists? I mean, I thought all creatures were more into orgies and shit. But these ferals totally ignored me when I was feeling Test 1 up. Shit. Not like that. Well, okay. Like that. It was just a touch and a grab, an idea I got from one of those expeditions downtown. From Stefan. Shut up. You got better ideas to lure a feral into a cell? No, I don't fucking think so. Um… so I managed to inject him with the serum while he was sleeping. No signs of anything yet. He's just walking around the same way every other feral walks around….you know…clueless and lost. I left him some meat but he hasn't touched it. I'll give Test 1 another dose in 13 hours.

---


	6. Chapter 6

His bodyguard had perfect teeth. It was one of those things that stood out that surprised him out in the Wastes. Not that every other ghoul had bad teeth, just that Charon had a perfect set of teeth. Staring at his own bared fangs, Knox knew that his teeth had seen better days; those days were in the Vault. It was a wonder why the mirror didn't crack further. Past the mirror, Test 1 was dozing off on a chair. That was definitely something new. Ferals usually crouched when they wanted to sleep; they rarely even slept at all. Test was 'beginning to show signs of recognition' of objects. 24 hours had passed. During the night, Test had peered through the bars at him with something kind of human in his manner. That surprised and bothered him. Charon cocked his shotgun when Knox pulled off the ghoul mask. Immediately a clawed hand shot through the bars and grabbed at his shirt, wrenching him to the bars. His jaw crashed against the metal but he pressed a hand to Charon's chest, stopping him from blowing off Test. Charon's heart beat strongly against his palm. Knox waited for the slash across his chest, face, whatever but it didn't come. Instead, there was a gruff sob in his ear and a callous palm rubbed his cheek. In front of him, he could see a kind of recognition in the feral's eyes. There was no viciousness in them. It was just like Doc Barrows predicted.

"Stand down, Charon," he said before unlocking the gate and entering the prison. Charon followed behind. They locked the bars behind them.

---

Holotape Log 7

There was something in that serum Doc. I don't know what it is. But you're right. Test became docile. He hasn't attacked me at tall. But he hasn't touched anything I've offered him either. No food. No water. I've even offered him my flesh. He just sniffed it, touched it, then proceeded to stare at me throughout the night. I…I think he's in pain… I can see it in the way he moves around, but there are no outward signs of distress. I…don't understand what the fuck is going on.

---

Charon never stopped being alert. He was like a goddamn lightbulb that wouldn't quit sparkling when you shut the lights out. Knox's perception had always been good, but this was beyond ridiculous. He couldn't even close his eyes because of the bundle of stable contained energy his bodyguard had. Those fucking eyes in that fucking gaze. It was strange and intense and worse than when it had been in the Ninth Circle. This gaze was heated and icy at the same time, like metal on the skin, like a switchblade cutting a thin line on his arms and chest, pushing up tiny, bubbles of red on the path. Knox shuddered at the image. Damn. He needed to carve people up. Then he twisted his switchblade into a scorched book to suppress the actual urge to put knife to skin.

"Hey man. Don't you sleep?" he asked after injecting another dose into Test. Test flinched in his sleep but didn't wake.

"Do you require me to sleep?" Charon replied gruffly. Knox leaned on the table as he stared at his bodyguard who was stoic all over again.

"Aren't you tired?" Charon grunted. "Didn't you sleep when you were with Ahz?"

"I don't talk about former employers."

"Then talk about evil bastards." That intense stare changed a little; how he couldn't tell. Just…lighter somehow. "Did he let you sit down? Nap? Everytime I step in there, you're all heroic and shit. And you never move. You must be boss of those 'don't move when the music stops' games."

"I had standing orders to make sure there was no trouble." Charon rolled his shoulders like a shrug but frankly, Knox didn't even know if it was supposed to be a shrug.

"So, you didn't sleep?" Charon grunted.

"I adapted."

He actually flinched when Knox dared a tentative touch on his weapon hand, but didn't move away. Something flashed in his pale eyes, then. Anger maybe? Annoyance? Knox pressed a palm on the flesh now, feeling the human warmth from his bodyguard. It was strange. He expected Charon to feel like Win. But Charon felt like Harold, the talking ghoul tree thing. Rough and gnarly but warm and sleek. Not exactly warm, it was more like burning warmth. Pulsing. Alive. Underneath all that mess was the slight tingling of radiation. It was fascinating. Win definitely did not feel like this. Carol even. He ran a thumb over the mangled wrist where the strong pulse met his skin.

"What is it, Master?"

"It's Knox," he said simply, voice low and even, as he commanded for Charon to call him by name. It wasn't a choice. It was an order. It was getting easier to order Charon around and it scared Knox. Knox trailed his knuckles over Charon's and the fingers twitched. "You feel different."

"What is it? How do you want me?" Knox noted the choice of words as he let his eyes meet those of his bodyguard's.

"Calm. Talking. Alive." He lifted his hands off the flesh and walked to Test who was still asleep. "Free." Test felt… like a feral. Shrivelled, dry and almost devoid of life. He wasn't warm. He was cold to the touch, like he had already died and his vessel contained ashes instead of flame. Knox placed a hand over where Test's heart would be and it was there, weakly beating in time to shallow breaths. He was dying… like all the other tests did. Knox grimaced as he turned away, struggling to breathe as a kind of bloodlust crawled over him. He wanted to break things, watch them shatter and crash and smother in destruction. Helplessness had this effect on him. He moved to one of the bookshelves where his combat knife lay. He picked it up then slowly, pressed it against his hipbone which jutted out over his low-slung pants. The sharp metal was cool on his skin but scorching hot when it sank into pliant flesh. Knox let out a low hiss at the sudden pain, and then pulled the tip of the blade out. Red trickled down the skin where the cut was.

This was what a smoothskin felt like. Burning with lifejuice.


	7. Chapter 7

---

Holotape Log 11

Test isn't waking up. I even made Charon shoot the ceiling – well, cause he kinda looks cool doing that and the sound breaks my ears. Test just jerks up then goes back to sleep. I wanna say that he's gonna die peacefully, but he…he's bleeding from his eyes… Fuck it. I'm gonna bring him to the Chop Shop.

---

Charon stared at him like he was waiting for Knox to command him to carry Test. Knox didn't, merely shifted Test onto another shoulder as they made their way down to the Museum. The shotgun was still in the bodyguards' hands, pumped and ready. Test was incredibly light. He felt like a part of the wall in the building: old and decayed. The other ferals didn't seem to be bothered by them for some reason. It was the dead. They didn't smell much different than the living ferals.

Cerberus greeted him with a short metallic cry then accompanied them to the Chop Shop. Doc Barrows was upset yet again.

"What happened to him?" Barrows said, ruined lips pursed, stethoscope ready.

"He's dying, Doc."

"I know that. What happened?"

"I don't know," Knox said, running a palm over Test's forehead. "I don't fucking know." He placed all holotapes onto the desk, then leaned down to whisper something in Test's ear. Barrow checked the feral's pulse, glancing at the smoothskin who was tying restraints around Test's wrists. Knox, feeling a ripple of unease pass through his body, pulled the collar of the tunnel snake jacket up and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"I need to kill something," Knox said as he unholstered his Blackhawk, already loading it with .44s. "I'll bring you some souvenirs." Charon followed closely behind, casting a lingering gaze over the supine feral on the cot. He banged the door shut behind them.


	8. Chapter 8

Talon Mercenary Headquarters? There were only 7 of them in the supposed headfuckingquarters. That took less than the time it took to get here. 7 heads lay on the floor in front of him; their bodies scattered around the room in parts. There was a bullet left in the Blackhawk so Knox fired at one of the lights hanging from the ceiling, bathing the room in dimness. Inhaling the strong scent of fresh blood, Knox closed his eyes as he leaned his head against the wall, sliding down on it until he sat on the floor.

"Hey, man. Stand down and take a rest, will you?" Knox said, his voice sounding strained and breathless. Somewhere to the right, Charon sat down, grumbling something he couldn't catch. The man always did that grumbling thing. At the moment, Knox's nerves were frazzled and his hands were shaking as he patted his body for cigarettes. Fuck it. The packet was empty. He crumpled it and threw it somewhere; it landed with a soft thud. He gnawed on his lower lip, as it craved a cancer stick.

"Boss?"

"Knox, Charon." Knox opened his eyes, focusing on his bodyguard who was watching him intently in the dimness. "You got a stick? A cigarette?" Charon slid his shotgun to his back as he walked over to one of the desks. Knox could hear him rummaging through things; a bottle crashed onto the floor into pieces. Knox laughed while Charon grumbled at the recklessness. When he strolled up to Knox, he held out a cigarette between his ruined fingers. In his other hand was the slim packet where the cigarette came from. Knox took the offered stick between his teeth, lighting it in an instant. Charon held out the packet and Knox stuffed into his jacket. At the first inhale, he let out a low sigh of relief. "Thanks," he grinned, showing bloodstained teeth; he had cut his own lips with his sharp teeth. "Appreciate it." Smoke spirals floated past his lips. Charon still stood in front of him until Knox patted the space next to him which meant 'sit here, man'. Charon obeyed. Those pale eyes never left him. It was strange but Knox could differentiate that gaze now, from everything else. It felt like surveillance, impersonal and passive, sliding just on the surface. Like the Overseer's brand of surveillance. Yet, Charon's gaze pierced past the skin, digging into him like he was on display – and Knox was rarely being observed like that. He stared back.

'_His company is rather refreshing isn't it?_' Yes. Very refreshing, Ahz. He remembered the barkeep's warning spoken in an almost fond tone. '_But don't mistake his brevity for stupidity. That would be very unwise_.' It kind of felt like he was in the wrong or something, like him sitting here was something evil enough to warrant him being called an evil bastard. At the third puff, Knox stood and limped over to the desk, looting for useful things. He didn't particularly care. It was just a habit. If he happened to find more scrap metal, at least, Win would smile a bit more - which would make Carol smile more, indirectly making Underworld a brighter, happier place.

On the wall where the desk was wedged against, there was a massive hole. Charon made that. Knox ran his fingers around the crack, touching and stroking the unforgiving jaggedness. He picked up more bullets from the desk and another packet of cigarettes. He asked if Charon wanted any of the other junk. His bodyguard did the shrugging-rolling-his-shoulders thing before picking up a bottle of purified water. Knox went close to him and placed Stimpaks into the ghoul's hand, fingers brushing the palm. Again, he thought of the many ways why Charon felt different. Was this a killer's hand? Was this what it felt like when a mercenary became a ghoul? Yet, Quinn didn't feel like this, did he? Quinn's hands were rough, calloused, yet kind and gentle. Charon felt… unforgiving. Unfailing. Unflinching. Exactly how his shots with his gun were. There were no second chances. He was the epitome of justice in the Wastes – no apologies, just a blow to the head. Knox smiled at the thought.

"You're injured…" Charon's voice trailed off. Some part of Knox was waiting for the designated salutation while the other part was chastising himself for even considering that.

"Yeah…" Knox coughed out black smoke as he traced the cut on his chest that was caused by a well-timed tire iron. "I don't fucking care at the moment." Knox gave his bodyguard a smile as he pressed bloodstained fingerprints onto important-looking papers – contracts for the killing of Knox. He smirked and let out a chuckle. Picking them up, he shoved them into Charon's face. Charon took his eyes off Knox for a minute to skim the lines on the document; not a single emotion flashed on his face. Stoic and uncaring as ever. It was hilarious. "People want me dead," Knox summarised the gibberish on the paper. "Think you can stop them from busting a cap in my ass?"

"I shall watch your back as best as I am able." A slow smile spread across Knox's face but it didn't reach his eyes. Charon stared down at his employer, and then gazed back at the paper. Knox noticed the way Charon shifted forward slightly, towering over him as he read the fine print on the kill contract. Damn, he was tall.

"They want me dead cause I saved a town from being nuked." Knox set the kill contract on fire, still holding on to it till the flames stung his skin. The ashes dropped to the floor. "Fucked up, isn't it. The world is fucked up." The cigarette hung loosely from the corner of his mouth as he spoke. He just realised he hadn't gone back to Megaton for almost a year.

He took out a combat knife from his pack and started carving up the bodies. He wasn't particular about the knives he used. As long as they could cut, they were fucking blades in his book. Skilful fingers made an incision down the middle of the chest, straight and unwavering. The bonesaw came out then and Knox peeled off the epidermis for fun before ripping off the rest of the layers of skin. Fresh blood pooled on the surface, then made shiny trails down the sides of the body. He separated the meat off the ribs, the _pectoralis major_, the _latissimus dorsi_; some cannibals would like those. _'It tastes best near the bones' _or so they say. Knox, almost reverent, snipped out the heart. It lay dead in the palm of his hand and he gave an experimental squeeze causing crimson to dribble out over his fist and onto the floor. Thick, deep red. Gesturing with his other hand, Charon handed him an empty IV drip packet which he filled with blood. Knox licked his lips as he set it down. It looked bloated and inviting. He punctured the stomach, all through the lining, making gunk escape the muscle. A small smirk made its way to his face as he gutted the body like it was a Brahmin. Doc wanted the liver. Kidney. Heart. Brain. The works. Sounded like he was making a sandwich. The body was flayed open like a frag grenade had set off within it. Knox pushed back his hair as he shifted to work on the next body. Red smudges tinted his face.

After saying goodbye to remaining pieces of the dead, they left. Knox checked his pip-boy to set them on the right direction. If they were lucky, they'd reach home by nightfall. Heh. Home = Underworld. When had that happened? As he let his eyes wander lazily over the terrain, Knox plunged a Stimpak into his wounds, feeling the muscle stitch itself up. It felt so clinical, yet the needle felt good.

"Be cautious," Charon's voice came at him. Knox nodded as he threw the empty syringe down onto the ground together with the spent cigarette. He took a few glances of the scene he left and imprinted it on his mind. That was what the Talon Company would find when they returned.


	9. Chapter 9

Doc Barrows just handed him 3 bloodpacks and 2 Stimpaks when he entered the Chop Shop. Test was still asleep, paler and gaunt in shivering slumber. Knox gritted his teeth. He reminded himself not to spill a drop when his trembling hands put the blood pack to his lips. _Vance wouldn't like that_. Barrows checked Charon. Satisfied, he gave Knox a crooked smile.

"You'd like to know that he's stable for the moment." Knox nodded. He picked up one of the Knox's holotapes. "But, you're not exactly stable are you?"

"Shit. Doc. Why you gotta be so evil?" Knox squeezed the last drops of his pack onto his tongue, feeling traces of superhumanity coursing through his veins.

"I'm just asking if you're doing fine –"

"In my head, you mean…"

"Yes, in your head." Knox dragged his eyes up Charon's form to see his bodyguard all nonchalant. Knox smirked.

"Are those innards working for you?" Knox asked instead of answering, sliding his tongue over his lower lip, catching the last traces of lifejuice.

"Yes. Perfectly." How many samples had he given Doc? How many organs had he brought back to Underworld?

"You're getting fond of me, aren't you Doc?" Knox stood up and stretched, rolling his sleeve up and offering his bare arm to Doc Barrows to get a blood sample. Doc Barrows took an empty syringe from the metal tray on his desk.

"Did you really…seduce the feral?" Nurse's voice piped up. Knox gave her an easy smile. Doc Barrows jerked his grip before clearing his throat. "You have a thing for ghouls?" Knox laughed openly at her question.

"I just have a thing for things that can fuck me up really bad." Knox licked his lips. "Like really fucking bad."

"Like raiders?" Nurse quipped. Knox snorted.

"They're jokes. Nah. And none of those Outcast Steelers shit either."

"Then like what?"

"Like guns and claws." Knox licked his lips. "And other pretty things that can scar."

Knox and Charon went into the Ninth Circle to pick up chems and alcohol. It was empty and smelt strongly of blood and puke. Winthrop followed them inside, snorting at the emptiness of the place and complaining about how Jet didn't affect ghouls. Knox gave him a withering stare as the men plonked down on empty chairs. Eyeing the corner where his bodyguard used to stand all statuesque and alert, Knox let on an amused smirk, remembering the way Charon would tell everyone to go 'Talk. To. Ahzrukhal.'

"Smoothskin. Do you know you're covered in blood and entrails?"

"Blood? Yes. Entrails? No." Knox gulped down his Nuka Cola. Charon was staring at him again. He could feel that pale gaze focus on him, probably taking note of the supposed entrails hanging over his head or something. Knox returned that stare as he gnawed on his lip, mixing the taste of blood with sweet cola. Pale eyes flitted over to his lips then back up to his eyes. Knox smirked as he coughed. "What did the Doc say? You know… about the cure and shit."

"Nothing to get excited about. He says to wait a couple of days, weeks…The feral has to ride it out," Win answered with his raspy voice and did not meet his friend's eyes. Knox let out a shuddering breath which made Win nudge the back of his hand with the bottle of vodka. "I still don't understand why you give a damn about this. You're a smoothskin," the ghoul pointed with a broken finger.

"Some of the best humans are not smoothskins, you know." Yeah, they're fucking corpses. "Besides, there IS a cure. There always is." Just a matter of time before they figured that out.

That night, when Win left, the silence closed in on the both of them. Knox blew grey smoke rings to the ceiling, head thrown back in relaxation. He was starting to get sick of his reeking clothes and this emptiness reminded him too much of Megaton. A frustrated growl left his lips when memories came to greet him. Knox closed his eyes in mid-inhale as the flashes of his doing played behind his eyes. Mostly, it was the image of a betrayed-looking Gob standing over Moriarty's mess that hurt him. Sweet Gob with the innocent eyes. Knox coughed. They had been good friends.

"Charon," he called, his voice hoarse.

"What is it?"

"Do you smoke?" His bodyguard grunted. Knox offered a stick from the pack. The heated stare-glare travelled over his face then over to the pack. Ruined fingers took one stick and placed it between equally ruined lips. Knox smirked at the sight as he leaned over and lit the stick for his companion. Charon actually widened his eyes from the sudden closeness. "I wanna ask about your story but I don't think you're gonna tell me." Charon grunted again, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Knox had come to not expect any answer from his bodyguard. He rested his aching legs onto the table after pulling his shirt off his back. Yeah. Win was right. There were entrails on him. At least the Tunnel Snake jacket was safe in his bag, gunk-free. He threw the soiled shirt somewhere near the door after wiping blood off his face. "Hey man. Can I ask you a question?" Grunt. "Did it hurt? Changing into a ghoul?" Another grunt. "See. Win says he wakes up one day and his nose falls into the sink while he's shaving." Doc Barrows thought he had become a leper when he washed his back and a strip of skin came off. Nurse cried when her hairbrush pulled out clumps of hair. Gob, having been around ghouls before it happened to him, couldn't speak a whole day when it started happening to him.

"No. It didn't hurt." Charon exhaled smoke with puckered lips, like he had been smoking all his life.

"Does it hurt now?" He shook his head. "Does it hurt more when you get injured?" A flicker of the gaze over his face and then Charon was averting his eyes to the tabletop.

"No. It feels… better." Charon smirked. Then it was gone. Knox stared at the pair of ruined lips, wondering if he even saw that small shift in expression.

"Like good better?" Charon nodded. "Makes me want to be a ghoul." Charon flickered that gaze to him - There. There was a glint of a fang. It was a very faint smirk. Very faint but there nonetheless. Knox grinned at that. He inwardly patted himself on his back for catching that expression. What a fucking challenge this man was.


	10. Chapter 10

He woke up with a crick in his neck from hanging his head over the chair. It didn't surprise him to see that Charon was awake and alert. As he stood up and stretched, he noted that Charon was drinking from a new bottle of beer.

"Dammit, man. You never take a rest, do you?" Knox coughed loud and rough. He lit a cigarette. "Do I talk in my sleep?" Charon grunted. Knox pulled on his Tunnel Snake jacket over his bare skin and strapped on his boots.

"I'm gonna go check on Doc." Knox turned to see Charon finishing his bottle before walking over to him. "You're following?" Charon nodded. They left the Ninth Circle. 3 am. Not many were up and about. Patches was slumped next to Snowflake; spit bubbles on his lips bursting in drunken sleep. The barber was surprisingly awake, though, hitting on Jet. They walked past them and headed to Doc Barrows. Doc was asleep. Knox had never seen the doctor in slumber. He looked close to peaceful - well, as close to peaceful as a ghoul could look. Knox wanted to touch, but decided against and took a seat beside Test.

He didn't know how time passed but when he came to, he had rested his head onto the bed where Test was. And Test was fidgeting. He lifted his eyes and his presence made Test growl – it was the one ferals did when they're going to pounce. The recognition Test had in his eyes was gone, replaced by a kind of blood thirst. A strangled cry shocked Knox to consciousness as he reached for the 'calming down thing in a syringe' with slippery fingers. The strangled cry became a strangled scream as Test heaved against the restraints. Knox struggled to find Test's vein in a post-sleep haze. Test roared. A knee came loose and it smacked Knox in the chest; the syringe dropped to the floor with a clatter. Winded, Knox grappled with the restraints. It was then that the claw came fast at him, scratching him across the face. It ripped his lips to shreds. Knox spun around, watching his blood spatter the curtains as pain numbed his mouth. He faintly realised he was in trouble when a long limb pulled him and he fell across the bed in a crumpled heap. The same claw sank into his flesh where neck met shoulder. Knox shouted. He shoved the hand away from the abused flesh. Heat pooled out of the wounds. The other claw came loose from the restraints. It aimed for his face again. Test screamed. Then Knox watched as Test's face burst into red mist, the inhuman scream cut short by the deafening bang. Pieces of face slid down the glass behind the bed around a long crack in the shattered glass. Knox coughed as he took deep, ragged breaths that stung his broken lips with each puff of breath. Numb. Numb everywhere.

Pale eyes peered into his face. This close, he could make out very minute flecks of blue swirling in them.

"Fuck," he murmured, making blood spill down his jaw. A tight grip pulled him up. Dizzy, Knox closed his eyes and rested against the grip till the wave of nausea passed.

"You're a mess, kid," Doc Barrows' awed voice travelled to him from somewhere to his right. Calloused palms on him. Knox swallowed his reply. It was hot everywhere. Scorching. This was crazy. He actually felt faint. Mustering every ounce of energy, Knox forced open his eyes and stood up, brushing past his bodyguard. He fumbled for a Stimpak and pierced it into the wounds on his neck, moaning from pain ricocheting in a very sensitive area. Someone handed him a bloodpack. He ripped it apart with clumsy bites and guzzled it up, not knowing if he was swallowing more of his own blood or the one from the pack. Nails seemed to rake the inside of his body as his mind awoke finally. He inhaled more of that sweet copper. He could feel the pleasurable healing began as he licked his abused lips. Another Stimpak into his lips this time; his lips swelled with pinpricks of sudden heat. Numbness gave way to pain and Knox trembled when the shreds of his lips stitched itself back together. The same calloused palm held him steady and pushed another Stimpak into his neck. Knox jerked into the rough touch, hissing as the substance surged through his veins. It was an unfamiliar touch. A side glance met the eyes of his bodyguard who was watching him with something heavy as he held the Stimpak steady. Something sparked underneath Knox's ribs, causing a burning ripple down his spine. Knox closed his eyes, took in every feeling coursing through his body and finally breathed deeply.

"Shit. Doc. Tell me something I don't know," he rasped. He wiped his mouth with the back of his palm, catching trails of crimson on his jaw. Not wanting to waste the lifejuice, he slurped those trails like it was his final meal, dragging his tongue over his skin in hungry swipes. Knox shrugged Charon's hand off him because… it was getting him bothered. He glanced at headless Test and shuddered. That's fucked up. "Totally fucked up," he said breathlessly. Facing his bodyguard again who had a hard stare trained on him, Knox spoke. "Thanks man. You're fucking awesome." THAT came out like a husky baritone. Charon nodded. Knox walked to the destroyed feral to take note of the torn restraints. One knee was still tied to the bed. Rest in peace, Test. The smell of stale, congealed blood was cloying but Knox nudged the dead body with an elbow. A kind of sadness settled in the pits of his stomach as he remembered how Test seemed to progress into 'humanity'. Seemed to. Knox untied the leather strap on the knee.

"Your fondness for rotting things amazes me," Doc Barrows commented as he stepped closer to Knox, flashing a light to his eyes to see the pupils' dilation. Knox stared into the light.

"It ain't the rotting. It's the…" his voice trailed off. Knox ran a stained palm over the partially healed wounds on his neck, the sensitive skin twitching. That felt better than it should. He raised his eyes and caught the Doc's confused gaze. "Are you okay, Doc?"

"I really need to work on the cure," he sighed. Knox watched as Doc looked sadly at the remains, before he picked up his notes to start again.


	11. Chapter 11

Knox hammered a nail through the metal with more force than necessary. Charon grunted next to him. They were hammering sheet metal over a hole in the wall in the Ninth Circle. Some days ago, they had scavenged the nearby strongholds for mattresses to put into the abandoned Ninth Circle. When Knox explained that one of the mattresses belonged to Charon, his bodyguard gave him a blank stare. Sure, he was always expressionless but Knox could pick out the traces of confusion now. It was getting easier to pick out minute changes in his presence and Knox found it… endearing to see traces of emotion in a face that had always been so unflinching and almost unfeeling.

They divided the Ninth Circle into two sections, hospital curtains serving as dividers underneath the arched opening in the middle. Knox decided to take the side with the actual bar as his residence while the other side was meant for any other ghouls that needed a place to stay. They cleaned up the former bar; it smelt like Abraxo for days until Doc and Winthrop decided to store a bunch of crap in the place. It actually felt so homely after all the junk occupied some of the space; Knox relished nights of sleeping in the place. Yeah, homely. Beside him, Charon brushed his shoulder as he leaned over to pick up more nails from the floor. Knox held out his palm where he placed the nails. Charon took a couple and gripped them between his teeth before hammering them in place onto the wall. Knox copied his actions, biting down on the nails. The sensation of a sharp nail on his tongue made electric waves surge through his body. Knox maintained a smirk as he continued working.

Doc Barrows took blood samples from him again that night. Boring. The doctor seemed more stressed these days. Everyone wanted the fucking cure.

When he watched his ghoul companion fixing his gun that night, he wondered if Charon wanted the cure as much as anyone else. He predicted that Charon didn't give a damn. Then he wondered if that was a sad thing. He blurted out the question.

"If you require my assistance, I would endeavour to give my best," Charon said. Knox smiled at the cryptic way he answered questions. Maybe Charon did care about the cure…a little bit. He had lived a long life like this, like the way most ghouls in Underworld did; persecuted, discriminated and abused. But Charon was programmed a little differently wasn't he? Knox rubbed his lips with the rough pad of his thumb, tracing the smooth dents where the scar was. It stretched across his lips.

Days passed so slowly in Underworld. He only knew the day was done when his cigarettes had dwindled down to 3 sticks in a pack. He offered Charon one. His bodyguard took it. They sat side by side under rattling pipes, watching smoke float in the air. As of today, Knox had Charon for 3 months. And at this moment, even though Charon had his stoic expression on, Knox knew that his bodyguard was calm, possibly even close to content. On the other hand, Knox felt …tense. He had been indoors for what? 2 weeks now? He needed to break stuff. He wanted to burn the world. He wanted to burn himself. He wanted to just…let it all go. He bit down on the cigarette, ripping through the paper and tasting bitterness on his tongue. Charon stood up all of a sudden and he stared down at his employer. It occurred to Knox that Charon was expecting him to do something. Knox pulled himself up, already starting to walk to the door and loading his weapon of choice.

His bodyguard knew him so well.

"Where to, Boss?"

"Let's gut some mercenaries today," Knox said. He turned to smile at his companion. The ripple in the air meant that his companion was returning the smile even though none of facial muscles shifted into anything resembling a smile.

They found the stronghold by accident actually. And very disgracefully at that. Knox got scratched by shrapnel from a well-aimed frag grenade. He let loose a long string of vulgarities as he made a dash to the stronghold, aiming his rifle at them. Charon followed him closely behind; Knox knew without having to turn. Only during battles, he could see his companion enjoy himself thoroughly. Charon was meant cause destruction. The hurled insults, the goading, the excessive trigger-happiness… that side of him unleashed itself in battle.

Knox selected a blade from the leather satchel he carried around and set to work. He filled the numerous packs first with blood and placed them beside him. He carved the cadaver like a piece of meat, naming the parts as he went along. The_ triceps_, at the back of the _humerus_, together with the _biceps_ pooled onto the floor, joining their brother the _deltoid_. Sure. Doc didn't want these parts, but these were the muscles that helped in creating the still bleeding scratches on his skin. Knox kept the smirk in place, sinking the metal into the _trapezius_ muscle and making diagonal patterns. There was a raspy snort from somewhere to his left. Knox glanced at his bodyguard, coughed then got to work for real. Heart. The heart. Dead and still in his fist. Knox placed it against his cheek and felt the mix of human warmth colliding with dead cold. His ghoul grumbled something and Knox put the heart into the toolbox that Doc had lined with leather. A string of clot slid off his face. Knox stood up, surveying the damage. He wiped the blade uselessly on his pants, ran dirty fingers through his hair then moved on to the next corpse.

Win looked at him like he was a broken radiator before helping to carry the carved meat. They made their way to the Chop Shop. Doc Barrows was observing the ferals through the glass of the observation room. He raised a nonexistent eyebrow as he looked up from the clipboard at Knox who placed the toolbox on his desk and walked over to him with an easy swagger. Knox peered over the notes. Just like Dad's handwriting, Knox couldn't read a damned word. The doctor stared at him then slipped off the reading glasses.

"Human parts for you," Knox drawled.

"I know, smoothskin." Doc Barrows walked to his desk as Knox leaned against the glass separating him from the test ferals. One of them banged a fist against the glass, where Knox's head was. He spared the growling feral a glance while Charon's fingers trailed across the barrel of his shotgun, eyes trained on his employer. Doc Barrows lifted a clean rag from his desk and handed it to Charon who stared at it with something like confusion.

"Clean yourself up," Doc Barrows said to Knox, already opening the toolbox and poking its contents. "And I'd appreciate it if you don't rile up my tests."

"Sure, Doc." He sat down on one of the cots as Charon walked a kind of stilted walk to him, fingering the rag in his palm. Charon shoved the rag at him and watched as his employer rubbed it over his face, wiping away the red mess. Knox grimaced, and then tore the cloth in half to pass the cleaner portion to Charon. Charon wiped dirt off his armor and Knox continued wiping the red trails, flecks of dried blood dropping onto the floor. "So, how goes the cure?" He hadn't asked Doc this question for some time.

"There is something promising with the newest serum." Doc came over with an empty syringe and Knox bared his arm. Doc pulled some blood from him into the syringe. "I need to test a bit more before we can put it into the field." He also passed Charon some Stimpaks. Charon handed them to Knox who took one and gestured for his bodyguard to take the rest. Charon stuffed them into Knox's sack, grumbling something which sounded like 'fussy bleeders'.

"Any of them on it, yet?" Knox asked Doc, piercing his wound with the Stimpak as he gestured at the ferals on the other side of the glass.

"One of them. The one with the ring in his ear."

"Yeah?" Knox grunted when he pulled the Stimpak out, a spray of blood following the needle. "What changes?"

"Hair."

"On the scalp? Or pubes?" Doc shot him a withering glare. "Hey. Either way it's good, right?" Knox grinned. "Hair is nice to touch."

"You still got red on you."

"I need a shower. But I hear the pipes rattling." Knox moved to the door. "Hey, Charon. Do I stink worse than ferals?" Charon grunted and shrugged. He attempted to pick up the sack that Knox was carrying. Knox declined and smiled at Charon. The bodyguard never stopped trying to do that, no matter how many times this happened. He saluted to Doc as he left, hoping that for Doc's sake, this serum better worked.


	12. Chapter 12

Charon was still asleep when Knox awoke. It rarely happened. He grinned to himself, triumphant that he caught this rare sight. For the first time, he was convinced that his bodyguard actually fell asleep. Usually, Knox would wake and they'd end up staring at each other for what? Hours? Till Knox wondered what the fuck he was doing trying to stare down a killing machine and then he'd finally wake up and accepted the bottle of purified water Charon slid to him. Now, Charon slept with his mouth slightly open, a rough, raspy breath passing through his broken lips. Knox couldn't tell if he was even relaxed but decided he should be since he was so absolutely devoid of expressions… well, more so than he usually was. It was interesting. Charon resembled so much like a decomposed corpse right now, yet never more alive. He was breathing heavily through his open mouth and grumbling things at times. Nightmares? He seemed to be in battle. _You like that you bastard?_ Fuck. It was… endearing.

Knox trailed a finger over the torn flesh, naming the muscles underneath his pointer. A smirk made its way to his lips and Knox dared a touch on his wrist. Charon's fingers twitched. Glancing up at the sleeping face, Knox brushed his knuckles over Charon's, trying to see if that action would spur anything. Nothing. Charon felt like sandpaper. The smirk on his face widened and he dipped his fingers in between Charon's spread ones, not really touching but close enough to feel the heat exuding from them. He anchored the fingers there before leaning over the supine body to stare at the face. How could you tell if a ghoul was good-looking or not? Were there measures of gorgeousness in ghouls? Like bonus points if the nose was still attached to the face? Charon lost those bonus points already. And his lips… Knox couldn't figure out where they used to be, where they began, where they ended. And eyelids… There was even cracked skin on there. Knox stared down at his bodyguard for some time, feeling the threadbare shirt Charon wore shift against skin at every breath. Charon was a furnace.

Knox couldn't explain how the next moments happened. He just found himself on his back, breathless, a sharp blade digging the side of his neck while a rough palm closed around his throat. By reflex, Knox's own fingers had grabbed his assailant's wrist and the grip tightened around him. He fisted the threadbare shirt with his other hand. Knox felt the tip of the blade enter the skin, as the fingers shivered around his neck. He shivered himself at the sensation. He gazed up at his bodyguard whose pale eyes were wild as they tried to focus on him. Well, fuck. Charon looked really badass then, with scary crazy wild eyes and the perfect teeth showing and hands holding him down, almost choking him. Heh. He almost resembled a feral. His knees on either side trapped Knox onto the floor. As Knox continued staring up, he finally saw a spark of recognition in Charon's face. The pale eyes widened.

"Are you gonna kill me now?" Knox finally asked in harsh whisper. Charon took his fingers off his employer muttering what sounded like an apology. The knife exited the wound as well and Knox let out a soft hiss at the pinprick of blistering heat on his neck. He felt blood trickle down his neck onto the floor. Well, actually this was embarrassing. To be caught red-handed while trying to feel up your own bodyguard was embarrassing. Knox mentally corrected himself that he wasn't attempting to feel Charon up. He was merely examining.

Charon was still straddling him as he leaned over his employer, making Knox dig fingers into his bodyguard's arm at the sudden action. They both froze. Maybe this was what Winthrop sometimes meant when he said they were 'too efficient at their jobs'. It suddenly got too hot in the room. Knox relaxed his grip, feeling the smooth roughness of broken skin and the flexing of muscles under his hand. The_ triceps_, at the back of the _humerus_, together with the _biceps. _He revelled in the rippling of muscles as he gently let his hands travel to the shoulder where he made about to push Charon but didn't. Knox considered placing a palm against his bodyguard's chest to satisfy his unfathomable need to feel a heart beating against his palm. He didn't move, just took a deep breath. The coarse pad of a thumb rubbed against the wound on his neck and Knox hissed at the touch. His eyes darted up to his bodyguard's.

"I apologise for –"

"I shouldn't have startled you like that," Knox interrupted, his voice sounding hoarse. "Sorry, man. You're just…so… tempting sometimes." There was a frisson in the air and Knox felt Charon's shift in emotions through the fingers he placed on the wound. Knox swallowed a moan.

"Boss –"

"It's Knox."

"What can I do for you?" Charon stared down at him in an expression that was hard to read, but there was a glint of danger there. Knox's instincts told him that much. "How do you want me?"

"Alive," Knox whispered. He averted his eyes from the gaze and let his hands slide off the warmth that was Charon. "Free." He let a smile slip onto his face as he brushed his knuckles against Charon's on the side of his neck. Then he twisted away from his bodyguard. His hands only stopped shaking when he took the first inhale from a lighted stick.


	13. Chapter 13

It was too late when Knox entered the Chop Shop the next day. The feral with the ring in his ear had been slashed and bitten through by the other two ferals. Doc Barrows rested his forehead onto the glass, watching the animalistic ritual of feeding. He wouldn't say a word to anyone; not even to Nurse. Knox steered clear of the Doc all day, keeping his remarks to himself. In the afternoon, he left Charon and Win in the basement to enter the test room. Ferals were creatures alright. Their dirty, sharp fingernails dug into pliant flesh, ripping out organs and muscles. The corpse's face was grey and green and bloody and in shreds over the skull. Doc was right, though. There was a full set of steel coloured hair on the feral's head. Knox, the resident body carver, felt puke gurgle up his oesophagus.

He waited till they were done and the body was a pile of bits of meat and white bone before he started cleaning the place up. It smelt like stale blood.

He remembered doing this to Moriarty. It was his parting apology-gift to Megaton, really, after disposing of the evil bastard in cold-blood. He had dragged the body with him outside Megaton and proceeded to carve him up. At first, it was just for pure scientific purposes, or so, he convinced himself. He wanted to see what made an asshole of a barkeep tick. Were his organs in disarray? Or were they organised by their ability to push forth a unique brand of jackassery? None of those. His flayed up body looked like any flayed up body. Nothing different. Knox had carved the body up and brought the parts with him to Underworld.

He refused to think about Gob's accusing stare at him. _Why'd you do it, smoothskin? He was gonna hit you – Yeah, but he's my master. Doesn't give him a right to hit you- It doesn't give you the right to kill him, either. He's my master. _

What a filthy word. Master.

He never felt sorry for killing Moriarty. But he apologised to Gob everyday for betraying him, for not having enough faith in him, for not waiting for him to grow a fucking backbone and off his 'master' himself. For all the shit that Gob went through, he deserved that one shot of pleasure. At least.

Gob hadn't forgiven him, had he?

Knox poked the partially eaten heart. Dead. He didn't know the fancy name for heart. When he was young and Dad wanted to teach him the fancy name, he refused saying that 'a heart is a heart and if you call it something else, it won't be a heart'. Kids. Damn. He missed his old man. He brushed a red trail off his cheek and disposed the body outside Underworld, at the same place they disposed all other their other failed tests.

Knox asked Doc what the heart's fancy name was. _Myocardium. My – O – Cardium. _It felt good and foreign on his tongue.

The next day, when he went to check on the corpse outside Underworld, it was gone. Just like how all the previous failed test bodies were gone within a day. Examining his surroundings, Knox saw a couple of muties hanging around. He briefly wondered if muties ate ferals. Beside him, Charon told him to be careful.


	14. Chapter 14

Doc Barrows was depressed. Each time Knox entered the Chop Shop, Nurse gave him a sheepish smile while pointing at the doctor who stood still in front of the glass, hands poised in the middle of writing something. Knox spent a couple of hours each time just standing beside him, trying to coax him out of it. His strategy was to ask questions like '_can a ghoul's dick rot and fall off cause a nose can totally do that?_' _Does ghoul meat taste different from human meat? Is it gross to kiss another ghoul?_ _I'm sure it feels damn fucking awesome, right? Are there baby ghouls? Have you done it with a ghoul, Doc? Did it feel any different from doing it with a smoothskin? Have you even done it with a smoothskin?_ Doc Barrows usually would just tell him to leave and that actually meant that Knox had succeeded in bringing the good doctor to the present. Somewhat. Cause it took a lot to get Knox to leave. He left only when Doc started to read a pre-war book and the Chop Shop felt peaceful again. The smoothskin would then return to Win and his bodyguard in the basement.

Watching Win and Charon, Knox was convinced that they wouldn't find a cure of ghoulification in his lifetime. The whole fucking world on his shoulders. A frustrated sigh left his lips and he watched Win whistling as he banged away at some sheet metal. Knox spared a glance at his bodyguard to find the pale eyes already on him. He knew Charon felt the shift in his emotions even though it didn't outwardly show. They were alike in some ways, weren't they? Charon picked up the packet of cigarettes between them and opened it for Knox. Knox thanked him as he placed one stick between his lips, rolling it around with his tongue.

"Hey, man."

"What is it, Boss?" Knox cringed at the term but opted to ignore it.

"You know, I asked Doc Barrows a couple of things but he never answers me -"

"Shit, smoothskin. You know Barrows got a lot on his mind to try and babysit you -"

"Fuck, Win. It's not like I cling onto him or something. It's just a couple of questions."

"It's you. Your questions aren't answerable." Win snorted. "Asking your bodyguard won't be any better." Okay, so Win had a point. Knox glowered at his lap, staying silent for a long time before he felt the ghost of a touch over the back of his hands. He looked up and saw Charon watching him intently, the cancer stick still between his lips. Knox leaned over and touched his cigarette to Charon's burning one. He noted that Charon didn't even flinch at the closeness this time, merely letting his employer light his cigarette. The air between them shifted again into something tenser but lighter at the same time. Knox closed his eyes as he took a deep inhale, feeling turmoil in his guts. His fingers flexed as they recalled the feel of broken flesh.


	15. Chapter 15

Doc announced that he was going on a trip to Megaton. Knox froze.

"From what you tell me, the place doesn't mind ghouls as much as anywhere else." Rivet City kicked Snowflake off the ship when he started to turn. "Even Gob is there, isn't he?" Knox nodded, as he ran his fingers over dry lips. "Anyway, you told me about some talented, helpful, upstanding citizens in Megaton that might be able to help me with this cure." Doc Barrows sighed. "I've hit a brick wall, smoothskin."

They left that evening. There was a spring in the doctor's steps as they exited Underworld. Charon followed them closely. Knox gritted his teeth and slid his thumb over the blade of his combat knife. He was jittery. Honest to fuck, he didn't want to go back. Not so soon. Sure he had a house there and it had been a year. He missed Gob. He missed Wadsworth. He missed everyone there, even good ol' Uncle Jericho. Okay not everyone. He could go a lifetime without having to see Confessor Cromwell. During the night they walked through the sewers. With Roy's mask on his head, no feral bothered them. Knox continued sliding the blade against the skin of his palm.

"You're quiet tonight," Doc Barrows said, his voice loud and rough in the darkness. Knox forced a chuckle. "Is something the matter? You're going home, aren't you?"

"Home is nowhere," Knox answered gruffly, pressing the pad of his thumb on the blade. "It's just… I kinda did something in Megaton."

"Last I heard you disarmed the bomb."

"That's all good. But that's not it." Knox coughed. "I killed someone in cold-blood, Doc." Knox reached into his pocket for a cigarette, offering his bodyguard and the doctor. Doc Barrows declined. Charon took one and lit both their sticks up. "I'm a fucking murderer."

"Everyone is a murderer in the Wastes."

"I killed a shitload of human named Moriarty. He cheats, rips people off, abuses his employees." Knox inhaled. He slid his thumb on the blade again. From the distance, he heard voices, but when he checked his pip-boy, there was nothing. "You know how I said that Gob's in Megaton. Well, he's actually working for the bastard." Doc Barrows walked faster to keep up with Knox's pace. "Not anymore, though. Cause I offed the fucker." Knox slid his thumb on the combat knife again. The blade pierced his skin, then, and he hissed as he slid the blade out.

Moriarty had gone at Gob for something trivial, probably the fucking weather and shoved him harder than he usually did. As Gob crashed against the shelf, Mors swiped the bottle from the counter and smashed it against the counter, breaking it in half. He pointed the sharp, jagged edge at Gob and took a swing. That bottle didn't hit the ghoul, instead crashed onto the floor because someone shot the bar owner. The eyes rolled to the back of his head as he slumped down, bleeding a pool on the floor. Seconds later, Knox realised he was the one holding the smoking gun.

"Isn't it justified killing?"

"That kill wasn't meant for me. Gob should be the one to put the bullet through his brain. Not me."

"You just saved him –"

"Didn't matter. It was Gob's owner. It's only justified if he did it."

"I bet Gob was glad –"

"Like hell, Doc. He thinks I am a selfish, self-centered fuck. He seems to think I betrayed him." Knox suckled his cut. "Only a slave has a right to off his owner for the world of hurt they caused." Or an employee. Beside him, Charon bumped his arm. Their eyes met and Knox remembered the first command he ever gave Charon after seeing Ahzrukhal explode into red mist at Charon's shot. _'You gotta do that to me one day, Charon. Like…fuck me up like that, okay… And don't fucking hesitate.'_

He wished he had paid more attention to his surroundings or his pip-boy the way he usually did. Knox didn't see the frag mine till he heard it beeping. By that time, he realised they were being ambushed.


	16. Chapter 16

His cheekbone burst into pain as he slammed into the wall. He blinked blood from his sight. His head felt like a jumbled mess. Somebody ripped his shirt as they wrenched him off the wall to throw him into a shelf. He crashed into it; he felt his ribs crack and he wheezed at the pain. Things clattered onto the floor amidst manic laughter. Knox felt his ankle twist under him when he sank onto the ground, coughing. Someone aimed a kick at his bruised ribs. Knox winced. There was stinging sound going through his ears. Knox opened his eyes to see red flowing into them. Someone pulled him up and shoved him onto a chair. Knox let his head fall back. A smooth palm cupped his chin and Knox flinched away from the touch. He shoved at the owner of those hands, earning a hard slap across his face. Knox let out a pained moan.

"Well, 101. We finally meet again." He froze when he recognised that voice. The smooth fingers were on his cheek again. Knox's eyes shot open.

"Burke," Knox slurred, twisting away from the touch. He could faintly see Doc Barrows held at gun point. Charon was nowhere to be seen. Knox felt sick.

"Come now, you didn't push me away when you were begging me not to blow Megaton up." Knox felt heat travel up his cheeks. "How you've changed, my love-bird," he cooed and Knox cringed. "Your skin… now covered with such… marks…" His familiar touch trailed over his torso and Knox pushed the hand away. "Did your ghoul give you this scratch?" Burke traced the scar over his lips.

"Get your hands off me," Knox growled. Burke grinned lewdly at him.

"Oh, but you like this, don't you? Living with zombies can't possibly satisfy your…" Burke pressed a knee against his groin. Knox hissed. "Every urge. I bet not even your fuck slave –"

"He's nobody's slave –"

"He's mine now." Knox's eyes widened when Burke pulled out the contract from the coat he wore. Fuck. FUCK. His blood ran cold at the sight of it.

"What the fuck did you do to him?" Knox whispered. His limbs weakened in a heartbeat. He'd never forgive himself if Burke put his dirty hands on Charon. FUCK. He was supposed to make sure Charon was safe from evil bastards. Who knew what this fucker could do to him? Who knew what this fucker would make him do?

"I told him not to kill you. Not yet."

"I swear if you hurt him–"

"Patience." That hand pressed against the wound on his temple and Knox winced. "There are things we need to discuss." With strength, Knox shoved Burke off him, making a grab for the contract. Immediately, hands slammed him back onto the chair. He struggled till someone socked him against the eye and he saw stars. His wrists were pulled back and tied behind the chair.

"Told you we should've tied the little shit up."

"Stay out of things you don't understand –"

"You're making out with your boy toy. Stick to the program, Mister Burke."

"I'm sure your Commander Jabsco wouldn't appreciate you talking back to me. As it is, I'm the one who put the price on his head." Knox felt the hands on him again. "This cure you and your doctor are trying to find…I want it."

"What the fuck are you talking about? " Knox drawled, feeling blood dribble down his chin.

"I know that it's to reverse the effects of ghoulification." Burke was tracing patterns onto his chest in languid strokes. "If I price it right, I'm sure it will be very helpful to me. Especially since I no longer have a zombie-free home… thanks to you…"

"Well, I don't fucking have it," Knox hissed.

"Oh I know. I'm just telling you my plans." The firm fingertips stopped their ministrations and dug into his skin. "You really should be more careful where you dispose your test subjects, especially when it's a feral ghoul sprouting a full head of hair." Well, that explained why the body was missing when Knox checked it. "And those carved up bodies, my love-bird," Knox groaned at the affectionate term. "I wouldn't have thought that you were the butcher himself. You leave every scene a mess; it's difficult for my men to clean them up." The fingers left him and a fist struck his jaw.

"20 mercenaries, you sick fuck… You butchered 20 men." Knox was disoriented. "I want your head on a fucking plate!"

"Gentlemen, your yelling isn't helping anything." Burke ran a finger down Knox's chin in soft soothing strokes. Knox coughed and blinked his eyes open, trying to focus on his captor. His whole face was numb. "Of course, I understand what those organs were for, now. For developing that cure. Isn't that right, Doctor?"

"Please don't–"

"Doc, better me than you, yeah," Knox slurred, more blood dripping from his lips. Doc Barrows shook his head. For a moment, he thought that maybe this was what his Dad saw through the glass when he told Knox to run. Doc, at the moment, looked so helpless. Burke took off his glasses and gave Knox a huge grin. His eyes, though, were full of a kind of bloodlust. "I know you need Doc Barrows but don't you fucking dare hurt my …Don't hurt Charon."

"You have a soft spot for these zombies, don't you?" Knox spat blood on the clean suit, earning another hard slap on his left cheek. Knox growled low in his throat at the sting. "Pity. And you have such a talented tongue…and those hands of course. You're forcing me to make a very difficult decision, love-bird." Somehow, Knox doubted that the decision would be difficult to make. Burke laced his fingers through Knox's hair and wrenched his head back, baring his long column of throat. Knox wheezed. "I think I'll leave that decision up to you." Burke placed a kiss on the side of his lips and commanded the Talon mercenaries to untie him. As soon as the restraints left his wrists, Knox was dragged and thrown through a door. Knox landed like a ragdoll against the wall. He groaned at the ten kinds of pain radiating from his every muscle. He scanned the room he was in. It looked like it used to be a freezer where meat would be hung before being packed. What'd he expect? They were, after all, in a meat packing factory. How ironic. After so long butchering humans like meat, he was probably about to become the same. On the side of the freezer, there was a thick, dirty pane of glass where people could see into the room. Burke was smiling at him from the other side of the glass. Knox cringed.

He swung around when he heard heavy footfalls behind him only to be kicked in the stomach. He doubled up in pain. The Talon mercenary placed a 10 mm gun on the floor and walked away. Knox picked it up; there was one bullet. The metal door opened. Knox forced himself up. He winced at the pain that shot up his legs. Steadying his hands, he pointed the gun at the door. He froze. Charon stepped into the freezer thing.

"Fuck no," he hissed at the sight of his injured bodyguard. There was a deep, dark gash across his left arm. He was bleeding profusely from that cut. Those pale eyes held an unreadable swirl of emotions. His stance was hostile yet there was something else underneath that, something warmer when he stood in front of Knox. Knox saw the way his pale eyes ran over his body and its many bruises. Knox didn't want to look at his own body.

"Here's the deal. Your life or your slave's." Burke said. Knox's throat ran dry when he realised what the 10 mm pistol was for. "Kill him before I make him kill you," Burke sang. The pistol in Knox's hands grew heavy. Knox felt his heart stop.

In front of him, Charon's gaze hardened. It was almost the look he usually gave raiders as he aimed his shotgun at them; daring, stoic and unafraid. _Unflinching. Unfailing._ A challenge. Then he shrugged his shoulders and stood up tall. He was in his calm stance. A drop of blood from his gash dripped onto the metal grate on the floor. How the fuck could you be calm, man? It was as if…he was actually waiting for that shot to happen. He was expecting Knox to shoot him. Something like anger flared up in the pits of Knox's stomach as he watched how the pistol was still pointed at his former bodyguard. The grip was still unwavering even though his knees were trembling, even though he knew he wasn't going to shoot. How could he? This was his bodyguard. This was Charon. Sure, he knew that he couldn't have Charon forever. But… he slept in the same room with this man. They shared cigarettes. They fought together. They did almost everything together. And Knox's heart wouldn't allow him to pull the trigger. He'd rather hurt himself then do anything like this to his very loyal employee.

An unfamiliar sigh escaped his lips.

So this was it. The last time he'd ever see Charon. The last time being alive would mean anything. The last time for… anything, really. So many of his questions still hadn't been answered and they weren't ever going to be answered anyway, weren't they? In the back of his mind, he reminded himself that this was the way to go. This was the way he always wanted to go. At the hands of his own bodyguard. What better hands than his own former bodyguard's? Not that he wanted to be betrayed. Just that there was no one more deserving than Charon to watch his life drain out from his body. It was an honour. Knox smiled a small sad smile.

"Charon…" He half-expected his bodyg- his former bodyguard to tell him to 'Talk to Mister Burke'. "I shoulda… kept that contract close to me always so you wouldn't have to put up with shit like that. Fuck. These men…they're scum…and I put you to this… I… I'm sorry. You deserve a much better employer than him…Or me." Knox coughed. "Cause you're the best, ya know."He watched the way Charon clenched and unclenched his fists. The ghoul was exuding a very conflicted aura right now. A glance at Burke told Knox that no one else could tell this just by looking at them. "You remember the first thing I said to you?" No response. "I said that I wanted you to fuck me up." Knox felt the tremor travel through his frozen fingers when Charon's pale eyes roamed over him. Charon growled. "Charon?"

"What is it, Knox?" The gruff voice saying his name broke him. How ironic that in the last moments of his life, it was the first time Charon said his name. A pained smile made its way to his face. And now, he was ready to die.

"Don't fucking hesitate. I ain't your employer no more." Knox dropped the gun to the floor. He staggered to the wall and leaned against it. Charon just stared at him. He stared back.

"How touching." Burke cleared his throat. "Now, ghoul. Hurt your former employer." Charon straightened his back at being addressed. His aura changed into something intense as he continued staring at Knox. Knox shuddered at the mix of emotions he felt from that look alone. "Then, shoot him."

"Yes, Master." In two strides, Charon had wound a tight grip around his neck. No hesitation whatsoever. Charon smashed a huge fist against the side of his face, then slammed him against the wall. Knox felt every impact crash through his body. He threw Knox on to the floor. Knox swung around. A bony knee dug sharply into his back and he landed on his face. He coughed blood, feeling his bones shift within his body. A twisted hand pulled him up and shoved him onto the floor again, his cheekbone shattering. This was fucked up, alright. Charon must really hate him. Charon was fucking inhumanly strong. Then the hands left. Charon turned him over. Knox felt like puking. His vision was blurred…

And…his heart was beating so loud now in his ears. So fast. _Myocardium. _Evil bastards had dead hearts, right?

Charon's pale blue eyes travelled over his abused body before he disappeared.

When Charon returned into his vision, Knox saw the pistol in his hands. He didn't even have time to register what was happening when Charon fired the shot. The bullet ripped through muscle, right through his body because he felt it exit his back and into the floor. He gasped, choking on a scream at the pain. The fucking pain. Worse than anything he had ever felt. Worse because this was Charon. Knox reminded himself that this was what he wanted anyway, right. That this was what Moriarty was supposed to feel. This was what Ahzrukhal felt. Knox felt blood trickle down his cheek as he jerked at the last traces of life. He was losing lifejuice. His breathing got shallow even as he gulped oxygen like baby mirelurks out of the water. He was bleeding and his senses were on high alert but…he had never felt freer. Weightless, even. Numb. There were scenes of his life flashing before his eyes. Like Dad. Like Amata. In the Vault. But the pain never left and the choking breaths hurt his whole being.

Charon knelt down beside his head. Their eyes met and a kind of electricity in the air stunned him. The conflicted unreadable feeling Charon exuded was still there. He didn't blame his ex-bodyguard. Charon lived bound to the contract. It didn't matter if they shared smokes did it? A shot was a shot. And employers were replaceable. Knox tried to smile but Charon leaned over to fumble the pockets in his pants, the one where the box of cigarettes was. Knox let his body sink onto the ground, no longer fighting. Then Knox stilled as the copper scent of blood filled his lungs and something dripped onto his lips. The ghoul's bleeding wound hovered over Knox's mouth, brushing them. Charon grunted impatiently.

It took Knox a split second to realise what Charon was offering.

Lifejuice.

Knox made a tentative lick over the wound, feeling a tremor in the muscle. When the hand didn't move away, Knox pushed his tongue into the gash, catching the lifejuice greedily. His tongue tingled and he sighed softly. The copper, the heady rustiness, and something foreign in his mouth; they grappled at his need for more. This want mingled with the pain in his body and the sensation intoxicated him. Charon pressed the hand into his open mouth now, giving fully to him, letting him drink. Knox sobbed against the wound. Knox drank long and deep, like he was inhaling a smoke. For some reason, he kept feeling like he was slowly losing breath even though he felt himself slowly heal. He felt faint. Charon grabbed the ever present packet of cigarettes in his pocket and pulled his hand away. Knox's vision blurred a bit more even as he tried to focus. He wanted to thank. But his mind swirled into emptiness and everything went black.


	17. Chapter 17

Silence. Numbness. He opened his eyes. There was a strange tingling over his whole being…like he had been submerged in irradiated water. Knox pried his cheek from the floor to stare at the ceiling. He swallowed, tasting lifejuice at the back of his throat. He blinked. His vision seemed to be clouded over by lapses of white before it became normal again. Still the tingling didn't leave. Knox shifted his body. It obeyed him. He sat upright and looked down, observing his utter bloodiness. His torso was covered in his own blood. Fuck. What a mess. Knox felt down the grooves of his body before he felt it – the open wound was on his navel, slightly to the left of his body. He pushed a finger in to see the extent of it. It was just a flesh wound now.

Fuck. Charon. Doc.

Knox scrambled up from his position on the floor, slightly winded by the sudden gush of strength. He took deep breaths before crawling over to the door. His pip-boy was still working; that's a relief. He noted the two red ticks on the radar somewhere to the right, noting enemies. He heard their voices before he saw them. How long had he been out? He hoped his companions were safe. He gritted his teeth. As he exited the freezer, he caught sight of the combat knife on the floor. A grin made its way to Knox's face. Time to unleash hell on these fuckers.

The mercs didn't make much noise as they slumped onto the ground, throats ripped out from their bodies, eyes bugged out in shock. Knox stole their laser rifles and ammo. He slinked in the shadows in search for his companions. Every red dot that appeared on his radar disappeared when he encountered them; he left a trail of red behind him. It was on the second floor that he heard the low murmuring of a raspy voice.

Doc Barrows.

His pip-boy told him they were in the next room where light spilled into the dark corridor.

"Stop–"

"And why should I, zombie? As soon as I turn around, you'll eat my brains." A sickening thud and a pained yell signalled the impact of a blunt object to skull. Knox growled low in his throat. They were fucking up his Doc. He went into the room and slashed the one guard, pushing the blade through his _zygomaticus major_, the upper cheek. Blood spurted out from the wound when he wrenched the knife out. The guard let out a frail scream which was cut short when Knox shot the laser across his neck, decapitating him. The body flailed in after-shocks of energy before going limp next to the ashen head.

"Smoothskin? You're alive? I saw you get shot. I saw you –"

Knox pushed the rifle into Doc Barrow hands and shushed him. He locked the room behind him, hearing the smooth, sleek voice of a sleazy bastard down the corridor.

"I wish 101 had killed you instead. He was a finer sight than you." A chuckle travelled out the door. "You hated him, didn't you? The way you went at him… It was excellent… I almost feel sorry for him, to be killed by his own slave –" Knox winced at the word. "Still, he deserved it for foiling my plans. I wanted Megaton off the map… It was my life's work but he foiled it. Oh…I did promise him I wouldn't set the bomb off if… he let me have a taste of vault purity…And my, was it pure…" Another dark chuckle. "He was extremely sensitive to touches…even pain…yet he soaks it up and asks for more… What a delectable morsel." A chair scraped against the floor. "Did you have a taste as well, ghoul?"

Okay that's it. Burke had hell to pay.

Knox sneaked into the room, watching the way Burke ran the butt of a combat knife along Charon's skin. He gritted his teeth feeling a flare of…something just under his chest at the sight. He wanted to break Burke's hands. Gut him for misusing his fucking bodyguard like that. There was obvious distaste in Charon's pale eyes. Knox could almost hear him growling. Of course, dumbass Burke had no idea that Charon was bristling. Then Charon's pale eyes suddenly fixed on him. Knox thought he felt the gunshot through his body all over again. He swallowed the aftertaste of Charon's blood, recalling every smash of a huge fist on his body.

With an inhuman shriek, Knox pounced and plunged the knife into Burke's back. Burke shouted as he dropped the knife he held. Knox busted his knees with a hard kick to the man's legs. He pulled out the blade as he shoved Burke onto a desk beside them. Burke attempted to grab him but Knox was slippery with blood. Burke's dirty fingers made trails on his skin. Growling, Knox pierced Burke's thigh muscle, right beside his crotch. Burke shrieked. Knox broke a couple of his teeth with a strong punch. Knox took this opportunity to pull out the crumpled contract from the unbuttoned coat.

"Fucker, let me tell you my plans." Knox slipped the blade out from the wounded thigh and pressed it against Burke's throat, staining the pale skin with red. "I'm going rip out your heart –"

"You're going to butcher me?"

"Oh, of course you'll be dead, by then," Knox said, imitating the pompous way Burke spoke. "But I'm not gonna be the one to end you." Knox slid the knife off the skin. He felt his bodyguard tremble with the anticipation. Fuck, yes. HIS bodyguard. It felt insanely good to address him like that again. "This kill doesn't have my name on it." Charon wasted no time in obliterating the evil bastard. Just a pump and a deafening bang and Burke bled all over the floor. Knox handled the cadaver with less respect than he ever had for any other dead body. When the echo of the shot died down, Knox flayed the body open, aiming straight for the heart. It surprised him that Burke even had one. As promised, he ripped it out, dripping crimson onto the floor. _Myocardium._ Even evil bastards had a heart. But so far, all evil bastards he knew had dead ones.


	18. Chapter 18

It seemed like they flew to Megaton, reaching the town before afternoon the next day. Knox was drained but would not slow down. The ambush left them feeling more anxious to reach safety. Knox felt the heat burn his back and he felt the small remaining aches in his muscles as they trekked. There was something wrong with him… strange…that he couldn't understand… running through his body. Maybe…not wrong… It felt good actually and that was strange.

When Deputy Weld spoke to him with his metallic voice out of the quiet dawn, Knox pointed a gun at him out of reflex. His hands were still shaking…like he had an energy overload.

"Smoothskin, are you alright?"

"Just nervous…" his hoarse voice trailed off as he holstered the weapon. _Ya'll better be careful with that thar weapon, Ya hear. _

"Well, I'll be damned… Ever take a shower, kid?" Lucas greeted him. Knox looked down for a moment at his blood-soaked clothes. "Finally thought to return, huh?" He felt Charon brush against his back as the ghoul reached for his shotgun. "Town's been pretty quiet. I haven't killed a drifter in weeks." Knox introduced his bodyguard and the doctor and told Lucas they were staying for a while. Doc Barrows didn't say a word till the sheriff pulled his hand away from his rifle. Knox found that he had his own hand around the gun in his holster. Knox took them straight to Moira and told her their plans. _Aww…how's the best research assistant in the world?_

"Need a shower…" Moira smiled at him like she missed him. He felt thankful for the gunk covering his cheeks as he blushed. As she tinkered around, her mercenary gave them suspicious glares. Charon returned that suspicious glare at him. Doc and Moira started talking. It seemed like they had a lot of things in common which was strange because Moira stopped at nothing to get him hurt with the Minefield and Mirelurks visits, while Doc was obsessively trying not to get him killed. Knox felt claustrophobic. When Doc Church came into Craterside Supply at Lucas' orders, he huffed at Knox. Knox knew him well enough to know that under that guise of a half-assed healing, Doc Church cared…somewhat. Knox coughed. Both doctors frowned at him. Doc Church asked him if he was still smoking, which reminded his lips that they wanted the cigarette between them. Knox stared at the ground. When Doc Barrows seemed to finally relax, Knox opened the door to leave.

"Are you going to see Gob?" Doc asked. Knox stilled. In truth, he wanted every much to see his friend. See if he's doing okay. See if he was better. Knox knew Gob was gonna be fine. Gob had endurance. Just … was he still furious? Was he gonna fling bottles at him if he stepped in the door of that saloon? You know what? If he was gonna do that, then fuck. He wanted to see it.

"Do you wanna see Gob?" he asked back.

"Yes, of course," Doc said. He handed Moira and Doc Church his research and holotapes.

Then Knox found himself outside the saloon that had a new sign in place. 'Gob's Saloon'. Well, that was unexpected. It sounded better than its previous name. Pushing open the door, he heard the strains of GNR greeting him. He stayed in the dark entrance, while Doc Barrows made his way to the barkeep. The place looked the same as always, just a bit better somehow. He could feel his bodyguard's pale gaze on him. Knox was tense all over. And jittery. He hung his head, till he heard Doc Barrows mention him. His name, no less.

"Knox?" Fuck. That was Gob, for sure. Knox lifted his face to see Gob's concern. It stunned him to see the open expression. Gob wore his feelings on his sleeve and somehow he had forgotten that.

"Yeah?" he replied, his voice sounding broken.

"It's been a long time…" Knox kept silent. "Killed many people?"

"Look, Gob. I'm –"

"You're covered in blood." Gob gave him a toothy grin. "Welcome back, smoothskin." Then there were hands on his shoulders, a very familiar weight which he missed. He missed this gentleness.

"You're not mad at me?"

"You saved me, didn't you?" Knox watched his openness and he smiled sincerely this time. In this moment, he wanted the cure more than anything. For people like Gob.


	19. Chapter 19

He dreamt of crazy things that night. He still felt something nasty moving in his body that couldn't contain it. Wadsworth hovered by his bedroom door. He briefly wondered how he made it back to his house after all that alcohol. Sure, it was just whiskey but he had never been much of a good drunk. Fuck. He was a horrible drunk. Hearing shuffling footsteps downstairs, he realised that it was his bodyguard who brought him back.

"Tin Can…" he called his butler.

"Ah, you're awake, Sir. Did you have a good rest?"

"I missed you, man."

"I'm sure you did, Sir." Wads made a tut-tut sound as he floated over to Knox's pile of soiled clothes by the floor. Okay. When did that happen? Charon must have stripped him. Gah. He must have really been out of it. Still, he and Gob, they were doing okay, weren't they? Like old times. They talked the whole evening about nothing and everything. Doc told him about the cure. Knox told him small little non-disturbing things. Charon was as stoic as ever as he sat beside his employer. Halfway through the night, Knox started staring at Charon and would not stop. He wanted to say something but his mouth wouldn't let him. He wanted to thank him, to apologise, to fucking…ask him why the hell he did all he did, but he couldn't. Charon just stared at him. And he stared back.

When he turned around to stand up from the bed, he felt the smoothness of paper on his chest. The contract. In his haste to escape from the meat packing plant, he stuffed it into his undershirt. He took it out now and replayed the previous day's events, shuddering as he remembered the rough manhandling…especially when it came from his own bodyguard. He remembered that determined gunshot that speared through him and jolted. He pressed the wound on his navel.

That would never happen again.

If he had died… Charon and Doc would still be with Burke right now, working against their will for the evil bastard.

Knox gripped the sheets as his body convulsed. Something was really not right.

"Would Sir like a drink?" Knox nodded weakly and the robot extended a bottle of purified water to him. Knox gulped it down.

He went downstairs to see Charon look up from the couch he sat on. There was something changed in his gaze that Knox couldn't place. There was something changed in the way his own body reacted as well. He stopped in his tracks, working out the many ways to talk to his bodyguard. He hadn't really spoken to him after the 'goodbye' speech. Charon stared at him. And he stared back like…like he had no idea who this person was.

"Did you carry me here?" Charon grunted. That meant 'Yes'. "Am I heavy?" Charon shrugged and grumbled something. Knox coughed. He fingered the edge of the crinkly paper. "Hey man, we gotta talk."

"If conversation is what you wish then I shall give it."

"You really thought I was gonna leave you there, huh?"

"I do not judge my employer's-"

"Come on, man. Don't do this to me." Okay. Something was definitely not right. "Just…" Knox flopped onto the couch, sighing in exasperation. "I was supposed to die." Knox coughed. "You were supposed to blow me to bits. Like you did to Ahzrukhal when he lost your contract," he growled. "I was ready to die, dammit. I was ready. You could…" He took a deep breath. "I wasn't your employer when you were beating me up, was I?" He turned to face Charon who was eyeing him with something heated. "Why didn't you just kill me? Why'd you risk it? If Burke found out…you'd be dead."

"I have my own sense of morality." Charon raised his chin like he was looking down on Knox.

"If I told you to kill me now, would you?" Charon grunted. "Then why didn't you when you had the chance?"

"That was somebody else's order."

"But it was Burke's, your employer's, wish."

"I was following orders. The bastard ordered to shoot you. I did."

"He meant kill. And you knew that. You fucking knew that, Charon." Charon looked thoughtful for a moment, but didn't say anything. Knox stared at him.

"Charon?"

"Yes, Boss."

"You called me by name." No response apart from the steely gaze. "I want you to wait here in Megaton. I need to go on a trip. I'd like you to watch my back but I think Doc would appreciate your presence. Help him will you? He's not that comfortable around this many smoothskins. Make yourself at home here okay?" Knox gestured to the house. "Tin can will listen to you." He got up from the couch, meeting the pale gaze. "I'll come back."

He explained to Doc Barrows that he had to leave for a while. Moira hugged him. She wrapped her hands around him and pulled him close. He was too stunned to do anything, just let himself be handled. The last time someone hugged him like that…it was in the Vault. And it was Amata. Knox told Moira she felt smooth and soft. Nothing like what ghouls felt at all. Nothing like how people prone to killing felt. She said he was an angel. Somewhere to the left, Doc Church snorted. Charon gave Doc Church a hard stare which made the doctor mumble something unintelligible.

He said goodbye to Gob who loaded him with colas; Knox declined all the alcohol. Knox made about to leave. Charon opened the door for him.

"Did you kill Ahzrukhal too?" Gob suddenly asked him. There was a kind of amusement tinged in the tone. Knox stared up at Charon who stared down at him. Knox chuckled.

"Nah. Was all Charon." Gob snickered.

"He scares me more than smoothskins," Gob said. Charon's eyes darted to the barkeep.

"He scares the shit out of me too." Knox lit up a smoke. "But he's fucking awesome." He brushed past his bodyguard.

He wore the Regulator duster today for the heck of it. Beside him, Charon stood stoic, eyeing him strangely. Knox met that stare and then averted his eyes. The situation called for some goodbye speech or whatever but Knox didn't feel like it was truly necessary. He had done it once. Anyway, he was coming home to Charon wasn't he? Knox set his pip-boy for the Duchess Gambit, trudging into the scorching heat as he pulled down the brim of his hat to cover his eyes. He could feel that steely gaze for miles, but when he turned around, Charon was already gone.

It felt strange to be alone after being constantly observed by far too efficient bodyguards. It felt strange that there wasn't that heated gaze at the back of his neck, crawling on perceptive skin. Knox pulled the collar of the duster higher, glancing frequently at his pip-boy.

"You lost?" A silky voice with a thick accent jolted him from his thoughts. "Or did you finally come for a visit?"

"Good to see you Nadine." He handed her a bottle of cola. "I need a favour." She stood up from her hammock and ruffled his already long hair.

Hours later, they were floating in the Potomac listening to GNR and Three Dog's stories. Knox tipped the bottle of cola into his mouth, managing to spill some over his neck as he jerked in sudden pain.

"Told ya," a gruff voice said to him and he looked down to see Troy giving him a smug grin while the blade of the scalpel disappeared into his skin.

"Okay, so it hurt more than I expected." Troy continued working over the thin black lines drawn over his torso. Dimly in the back of his mind, Knox noticed that DAMN… that was a shitload of lines. Knox placed the bottle onto the floor as he picked up the other scalpel that had his blood on it as well. He contemplated licking the blade – it was his fucking blood anyway. "You think maybe I could… do it myself?"

"Think you can cut deep enough?"

"I'll cut too deep."

"First cut is always the deepest, baby," Nadine said as she hovered over him and drank from the bottle of cola before landing a kiss on Troy's cheek. "How's it feeling so far?"

"Pretty good, actually," Knox murmured. He watched Troy roll off a piece of his skin that was in the shape of a 'T'. "How long will it take?"

"A couple of days? I don't know."

When they were done with his front, it was 3 am the next day and he couldn't move. Nadine had this expression on her face that was a mix of pity and awe. She sat beside the cot he was lying on and she brushed a finger on one of the cut letters. He hissed. She apologised.

"Why are you doing this?" Her voice was broken. Troy stepped into the room and placed a hand on her bare shoulder which had Troy's name scarred into it. "Is this pain worth it?" she asked as she ran soft fingers through his hair. Knox smiled up at the couple.

"Does it seem like it's worth it?" Knox drawled as he moved his body, hissing when his muscles shifted. He wanted to get up; Troy stopped him with a smooth palm on his chest. "I can take it. I ain't gonna die from-"

"Sure, man. We all know who ya are." Troy calmly handed him a mirror. Knox surveyed the handiwork with a low whistle. The deep ridges of white-red meat in the shape of fine letters spread over his body. He could only see them because his whole skin was red, swollen and raw in contrast to the paler flesh that had been hidden under layers of skin. There was a smattering of blood in those trenches. The pile of curly meat on the pan next to the cot belonged to him, didn't it? The skin shavings used to be a part of his body. Andale towners would like to fry those shavings up. He traced the letters with his little finger and shivered at the pain he felt. "Won't come out perfect if you keep moving around."

"No one does."

He spent the rest of the night dipping his finger in the gunshot scar Charon had caused. He decided not to taint it with letters. It would forever serve as a reminder telling him to 'be cautious' because he had not one, but two lives in his hands as long as he held that contract. Every time he felt that scar, he remembered the shot and the unexpected pain. In his mind, he lengthened the journey it took for the bullet to rip through his abdomen, out his back and into the floor. Lifejuice spilling out of him. Lifejuice spilling into his lips when the hand pressed his open mouth. The feel of twisted sinews, tightness of skin on his tongue as he inhaled all that beautiful lifejuice… it was something very different than what he was used to. And yet, it felt like nothing different. Knox swallowed, feeling the tingling he felt these days rack through his body. He reached next to him for the crinkly yellow paper and the box of smokes. Biting down on a cigarette, he traced every word on the contract currently carved into him. His body was actually, quite numb with very minute pinpricks of pain. He couldn't sleep a wink.

It took two days before he could lie on his front so that they could do his back. It took a week before everything was mostly healed. When he stretched his muscles, there were trickles of pain running down his body. That was fine. He thanked the couple for their patience and hospitality and they thanked him for the things Three Dog said he did. They said they were going to have a baby. Knox eyed them and smiled, feeling claustrophobic and touched that the Wastes hadn't broken everyone yet. He felt tense again…yet these days the tension disappeared in a heartbeat. He shrugged the duster onto his bare shoulders and placed the hat on his head.

This was worth it, wasn't it? This had to be done. It had. So there won't be a repeat in the events. So his bodyguard wouldn't have to be in another evil bastard's care. So he wouldn't have to take jackshit from nobody who wanted to fuck anyone else up. Every step he took made the skin scratch the inside of the coat. It hurt. This was worth it. It was.

* * *

_Note: If anyone wants to know what scarification is: http: // en .wikipedia .org /wiki/Scarification_

_And here's a video if you want to see the process: http : // www. You tube. com/ watch?v=L2gglbwg5Fs&feature=related Warning: it is an extremely graphic video. But I'm sure it'll give you a good idea of what Knoxxie was going through. _

_Get rid of the spaces in the links._


	20. Chapter 20

As soon as he entered Craterside Supplies, he felt the hit of a very heated stare on him. He knew the owner of that steel gaze and he stopped in his tracks to return it.

"Took you long enough, smoothskin." Knox saluted the doctor. His movements were hesitant. He knew his bodyguard noticed. He knew Doc and Moira didn't. The doctor eyed him. "Did you have a good trip?" Knox nodded as he stepped further into the room. "Never seen you come back not covered in red before." Knox snickered as he bared an arm to Doc. Doc Barrows took the blood sample. "I'm ready to get back to Underworld."

"Yeah? That means you got ways to fuck up that brick wall. Let's get back tomorrow."

Back in the house, Charon closed the door behind them and Knox walked to the locker beside the kitchen.

"You came back…" At the awed tone of the voice, Knox faced his bodyguard. Charon did look awed and it was strange to see such openness in his usually passive face. Awed and tensed. Knox felt something in his system jerk at the sight.

"I told you, didn't I?" Did everyone expect him to leave and never come back? Briefly he wondered if there was anyone who didn't come back to Charon and claim him. "I have something to tell you. Take a seat, man." Charon obeyed, sitting down on the couch. Knox winced as he pulled out the contract which scratched his still healing wounds. He saw the pale eyes flit to it. "I'm going to keep the contract here in Megaton. So, some dumbass can't take you from me easy. Like Burke. Or some jackass with no balls." He cleared his throat. "Point is. I'm keeping it here so you'll be safe. Cause Tin Can is a great watchdog." Charon grunted. Knox took a deep breath. "According to the contract, you need someone to hold it." Like a lifeline. "So, I made sure that while the paper is here, we can still travel and you still have the contract." Knox put the contract into the locker then pulled off the duster as he walked over to his bodyguard who never took the pale eyes off him.

"Boss…?"

"See. I got this scarification thing. Supposed to be permanent scarring if I let it heal without meds. So I got the contract on my skin. So I can have you till I die. Shit. I mean…fuck… not like I own you or something. You belong to no one, right." Knox coughed as he gestured to the small raised bumps of letters on his skin. Terms and clauses stared up at him. "It's so that you'd be safer…that you'd have a choice, somewhat. I mean, you can't guard me forever. But for now, you're my bodyguard." Knox coughed then looked at his bodyguard who actually seemed to have this… 'horrified' expression. Which was strange cause nothing surprised Charon ever. His pale eyes roamed over Knox's body… in an almost feral look, the one ferals had when they were going to pounce. Like he was hungry. Knox took a step back, opting to put his duster into the locker. Okay. He was intimidated. Fuck, it was as if he had never spent every waking moment with his bodyguard.

He stilled. There were fingers on his marks. He felt them travel over the grooves of the words, in jagged, jerky trails. It… hurt beautifully, shooting aches up his spine like flame trails. They mapped his skin, the sore flesh and numb smoothness. In the back of his mind, it occurred to him that his bodyguard was the owner of those hands and he couldn't help the tremor of …lust, _that's what it was, wasn't it?_ that coursed through his body. Knox hissed.

"Charon?..." His voice sounded hoarse and breathy, like he had been running for miles. The pads of rough thumbs brushed over the top of his hipbones; that was where Troy had carved the signature that signified the acceptance of the terms and conditions. On the contract, Charon had signed his name, transferring his rights to the owner of his contract. On his body, he added his own signature next to Charon's carved signature. Knox licked his already dry lips.

"You are in pain." The coarse touch went up his abdomen.

"No, shit." Knox swallowed. "It…feels good, though…I don't know...if," he said in broken gasps because the sensations made him heady. _I just have a thing for things that can fuck me up really bad… _Yeah. Those hands could fuck him up very bad. _Like really fucking bad. _He knew from first-hand experience. "I… ain't gonna…. take advantage of ya. No fucking way." He shook himself then and pulled away from the maddening, curious caresses. His ghoul radiated a mixture of things that were familiar yet very unfamiliar in this context…whatever context this was. Knox's body was on fire. He placed a palm over the back of one of those hands, stilling Charon's motions.

The feral look was still in Charon's eyes and he stared at his employer through the curtain of red hair. That floored Knox…that fucking look. Pale eyes roamed downwards over his bare torso in a heated stare…like the way he did when he was about to pull the trigger with the gun pointed at Knox's navel. Then those hands resumed tracing letters into his flesh. Knox bit down on his lower lip. He still hadn't asked why Charon was …touching him like this. Okay, maybe cause the contract wasn't that easy to read yet. A couple more days and the contract would be more legible. He still hadn't asked Charon to stop. His flesh trembled as swirls of longing curled in his lower body. Knox swallowed a moan. Smooth touches wouldn't feel this good. The calloused roughness…this was compelling. They tugged at the broken scars. He let slip a low moan when Charon's fingers grazed over the gunshot scar. The pale gaze rose to meet his. There was a silent apology in those eyes.

"You…weren't in my… employment when you did that."

"I am still in your employment now. You hold my… You _are _my contract." Knox hissed when the fingers gave way to palms now, obviously touching, obviously coaxing. "You have the right to command me and I will obey without question." Knox was aware that this was very quickly getting out of hand. On one hand, he knew that this should stop…and it would stop easily with a simple 'Get your hands off me, Charon.' On the other hand…did he want this to stop? He worried his lower lip with sharp teeth, catching Charon's focus moving to his mouth. Charon was openly smirking now. No. This wasn't one of those things that showed only in his aura. This was showing, for real. He even had the glint of a fang showing. For some reason, that made Knox chuckle. Knox matched that smirk as he watched his bodyguard watch him.

Then the door opened and Doc Barrows entered, exclaiming that he needed help with some stuff. With tainted agility, Knox fumbled with the locker to pull out a shirt of some sort.

"Moira wants me to – smoothskin, your body…what did you fucking do, Knox?" Doc Barrows cussing was never good. Doc Barrows calling him by name was worse.


	21. Chapter 21

The trek back to Underworld was hitched with raider and scorpion attacks. Knox, for once, didn't feel the insatiable need to butcher, letting the dead rest. He just pressed his palm over their hearts and didn't feel it pulsing. Doc Barrows forced open another bottle of cola that Gob insisted on loading them up with. _Enough to last till you come back, Knoxxie. Doc Barrows likes them more than I do, barkeep._ Knox caught Doc looking at him like he was insane a couple of times. It was understandable. When Knox explained to him why he imprinted the contract on his skin, Doc Barrows just kept silent. There was no other way, was it? He didn't want a repetition of events. Now, he could travel knowing that no one could use Charon or had access to him. The contract was safe in Megaton and no one knew where it was.

Nurse fussed over Doc Barrows and his excitement. Win filled Knox in on what pipes were busted since Knox left. Charon kept a close eye on his employer as Win and he spent the day chatting in the converted Ninth Circle. When Win finally left, Knox stripped down to his shorts, flopped down on his mattress and fell asleep.

He awoke to see pale eyes staring down at him and rough fingers trailing over the carved contract. He recalled being in this position before but with a knife pressed against his throat. This time, there was a gentle roughness that spread warmth over his skin as hands grated over his marks. Knox swallowed. Charon stared down at him. He stared back. Unflinching. Charon grumbled something that he couldn't catch.

"Are you… reading me?" Knox asked, his voice rough. He let Charon idly trace the words in his skin. Charon nodded. Knox shivered because his touch was warm. "I added a lot of…stuff in." Charon nodded again. "Even the part about you calling me by name." The pale eyes darted up to his.

"What would you prefer me to call you?"

"Knox. Just Knox. No Mister. No Master. No Lord. Just Knox… Like the way you did when you were bleeding my life out." Knox ran shaky fingers through his hair. Those maddening scratches on his skin tugged at him.

"Knox…"

"Yeah. Fuck. Like that." His response sounded very needy. "Why haven't I told you to stop yet?" he growled at himself.

"You like that, Knox?" Knox let out a breathy moan when that question echoed in his ear and blew at his neck. His bodyguard was seducing him, wasn't he? Ghouls never did this before. Okay. He was lying. Once, Patches propositioned him, but Patches propositioned everyone. Then there were a couple of ghouls who touched him, his hair, his smooth skin. "How do you want me?"

"I… don't fucking know, right now." Knox hissed. He faced his bodyguard who stared at him all dangerous. With Charon-like agility, he stood up and slipped off the leather straps that held his armor together. Knox was silent as he watched his bodyguard strip. Part of his mind wanted to stop him but he questioned why he even wanted Charon to stop. Clearly, Charon was doing it out of his own…initiative. Knox encouraged it, even wrote it in Clause 4. So, if Charon wanted to strip he could damn well strip. Charon revealed his bare torso and Knox could see strips of smooth skin that hadn't been ravaged by ghoulification yet. He saw the ripples of strong muscles as Charon moved. Dangerously strong.

"What are you doing?" he found himself asking in what sounded like a bored tone. He was far from bored. His nerves were just frazzled at the moment. Charon never answered, just straddled him again and continued touching him. Knox laced his fingers through the tufts of red hair and relishing the feel of them in his fingers. This was very different from Burke and his very fast grabs, considering his fucking age. Fast grabby hands that pinned him and ripped him to pieces and …Knox shuddered at the rough hand cupping his chin. No. Charon wasn't fucking gentle. But he was…human. Not animalistic.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked. Charon stilled. He usually would just swoop in and bite the lips of anyone he wanted to. But Charon was like a bullet raring to go through your skull. For a long time they faced each other until Knox couldn't take it anymore. He brushed his own lips onto Charon's ruined ones. Feeling no resistance, he pressed chaste kisses onto the area, pulling his ghoul's chin closer. He was just warm all over; bordering on scorching. Knox tasted radiation on his tongue. So, maybe Doc was right; ghouls did radiate a little poison but not strong enough to be detected on the Geiger counter. No one would know for sure until they kissed ghouls and Knox was aware that he was sloppily kissing one now. Charon wasn't even responding back. Knox leaned back to look at his ghoul.

"Do I disgust you or something? I thought you …" Knox's voice trailed off as he unlaced his fingers off red hair. "Maybe this isn't consensual in the first place. Even if I want it to be…" he mumbled to himself. He stared at Charon and his lack of skin and thought him beautiful. Knox felt like he himself was a broken smoothskin. "It's cause I'm a dude isn't it? I don't have breasts or…" Knox coughed.

"I don't have them either. OR skin." Oh. Knox slipped into a grin and pulled Charon close again, landing kisses over his jawline, avoiding the lips until it seemed like Charon would respond back. Knox slid his palms over the torso, feeling the roughness, the sandpapery muscles. He closed his eyes and nuzzled the flesh, rubbing his cheek, stubble and relishing this…relishing another person, ghoul or not. Someone not pushing him away because he was always covered in blood or the crazy scars and the fact that he was just…Knox. He smiled against the skin and inhaled. If he inhaled deep enough, he could smell a tinge of toxic. Just a tinge. He swiped his tongue over the collarbone; fancy names be damned now and Charon shuddered against him. There. That tingling that signalled radiation. It was on his tongue, but just barely…as much as maybe three gulps of dirty water. And Charon tasted like skin and perspiration which was odd but Knox swallowed his taste and memorised it as Charon, his fucking bodyguard. …Well, that sounded wrong now.

After many moments of Knox running his hands over pliant flesh, Charon responded by pushing the both of them further into the mattress. He massaged Knox's abused skin, digging rough fingertips over the healing mass of words which tore deep groans from Knox's throat. It stung and felt amazing and Knox indulged in the touches. There were gruff whispers in his ear that made his heart beat fast.

_How do you want me? I'm not taking advantage of you. Knox, I am merely carrying out Clause 4. _

By that time he was so far gone to close the door, to prepare himself properly. Couldn't wait, especially when the throbbing hardness pressed against his entrance, his ghoul's face twisted into something like awe as he watched. He felt Charon rip him apart when he pushed in but it felt so fucking good and Knox whimpered and thrashed against the mattress like a corpse grasping at the last vestiges of breath.

The pulsing member in him was still in working order, brushing against his prostrate at every hard thrust. Knox gripped with everything he got as his mouth accepted the assault from another equally eager mouth. Charon's lips left his, making a trail on his skin as he grumbled continuously into Knox's skin. Knox realised after some time, that he was actually reciting the contract from memory like a mantra. That was the sexiest thing he ever heard. When white pleasure tore through him in waves, he jerked and screamed till his throat hurt and he lay on his back choking on breaths. In the dim consciousness, he realised that the fluid trickling out of him was cum mixed with blood, his blood. And that he was sticky and that session was…fucking awesome. He coughed as he lay limp, trembling when Charon pulled out of him. His body was still twitching. He was still hard and sensitised. He still wanted more.

"Knox?" Damn. He liked hearing his name from his ghoul. "You're bleeding." That voice blew into his ear and Knox chuckled. He coughed, pressing his own palm over his heart and hearing it beat at an erratic pace. He wasn't such an evil bastard was he?

"Hey, did you know I wasn't gonna shoot you?" he asked when he finally calmed down enough.

"No." Charon's heart beat had the same frantic pace. "But you aren't my former employers."


	22. Chapter 22

Doc Barrows' hands were shaking when he looked up at Knox and Charon as they entered the Chop Shop. The stare he aimed at Knox shut the smoothskin up in the middle of saying hello. Knox bared his arm; Doc took a blood sample and checked it. The worried expression on his face never left. Doc Barrows looked through the microscope again before he stood up, rubbed his eyes and opened a bottle of Nuka cola.

"Doc? You okay?" Knox took two steps towards the doctor but Doc Barrows smiled and stopped him saying that he's fine. It sounded like anything but 'fine'. Knox glanced at Charon who was standing by the entrance.

"Smoothskin, I am going to ask you several questions and I want you to answer as honestly as possible, okay?" Knox did not like that tone of voice at all but he nodded. Doc picked up his clipboard and the pen. All business. Doc started asking him questions about his visit to the Duchess Gambit. Those were easy to answer. _Killed anything on your trip? A couple of raiders, muties…you know the usual. Any ferals? A couple…in the subways. Any bites? Nah. I was in Roy's mask. So they're gentle. The blades used on your skin; are they sterilised? Troy knows his blades, Doc._ Doc Barrows nodded and sighed in frustration.

"What's wrong?"

"Did you get into close contact with any ghoul? Intimate contact of any kind?" Knox froze. He refused to glance at Charon and pulled the collar of the Tunnel Snake jacket up to cover the marks on his neck. "Smoothskin, did something happen?"

"…I did have intimate contact with someone… kinda slept with them. With a ghoul." Knox gave the doctor a sheepish smile. Actually Doc Barrows seemed confused. "You know. Sex."

"With a ghoul?"

"Yeah."

"You had sex with a ghoul?" Knox nodded. Doc Barrows stared at him in disbelief.

"Shit. Doc. People do have sex."

"Yes, I understand that. But you…You had sex with a ghoul."

"Hey, man, ghouls are people too."

"Yes, I know that. But…smoothskin…" So, that's what it was. The smoothskin business. Knox patted his body for a cigarette. Doc Barrows cleared his throat and placed the clipboard onto the desk. "Was it consensual?"

"I hope so. I mean, I wanted him –"

"You did it with a male ghoul?" Knox stilled at the question. Doc Barrows' mouth was agape. "You swing that way and I don't even notice" he muttered under his breath.

"Look, man. I don't swing any way. I just like things that can fuck me up bad." _Like guns and claws. Charon had both didn't he?_

"When did this happen?" Knox found the packet of smokes and gripped tightly. Well, fuck. Doc would know it's Charon now. Sure.

"…Yesterday ." Doc's eyes travelled over to his bodyguard, understanding flitted in the gaze. "It's consensual. I didn't force him. Didn't push him into it, okay. Wouldn't do that to him…well not if we're gonna do that…" Doc stopped his tirade with a squeeze on his shoulder.

"Was it good?"

"Fucking incredible." The cigarette twirling around his fingers finally made its way between parted lips. Charon walked up to him and lit the stick for him.

"When did this arrangement start?"

"I told you. Yesterday." Then Doc froze again, walked over to the microscope and picked up the clipboard again. "Look, Doc. You gotta tell me what's wrong." Doc Barrows beckoned for Knox to come to him. He gestured for Knox to look through the microscope. Knox obeyed. He sat down on the stool then put his eye over the device. It was blood. It was ghoul blood. Knox could tell by the fluid way the cells moved, more fluid that a normal human's were. Plus the cells…ghoul blood had 'dots' in them from the strain of the virus… Wait. This was…strange. He could differentiate the blood cells. Yet, something was different. They appeared to be a mixture of sizes, two sizes, similar but different…one was slightly bigger, plumper…this was…odd. Blood cells were uniform, weren't they? When he observed a bit closer, he realised that the smaller cells were human and the slightly bigger ones were ghoul. He couldn't understand. Was this human? Or ghoul? It actually seemed to be a… perfect assimilation of bloods. Knox gazed up at the Doc, quietly asking for explanations. Doc didn't even blink at him until he blurted out. "What the fuck is this?"

"It's your blood."

"Don't piss around –"

"It is your blood, smoothskin. I just took this sample today. It was the same as yesterday's results when I checked it." Doc picked up another dish next to the microscope. "I thought I had somehow contaminated your sample. But I didn't."

Knox stood up from the stool, his mind in disarray. He had to think. It was impossible. That couldn't happen. If he was ghoulified, he'd be –

"Why am I fucking not …rotting right now? I have …ghoul blood…I'm half ghoul…I…I'm…" Knox picked at his skin and leaned against the counter, breathing in short gasps that hurt his throat. "This is not possible… I'm not even glowing right now." He held his hands to his face, as if he could see himself glow and rot at the sudden knowledge. His hands were shaking.

Knox turned to the Charon who stood calm with something unreadable in his gaze. He examined the broken flesh. He pressed kisses on that flesh. He lay his head on him, didn't he? Was it so bad to be a ghoul? Judging by his own decisions, and his own flesh, Knox was halfway there, wasn't he? And ghoul dicks didn't rot and fall off like noses did. So, that was fine too. Knox calmed down somewhat, finally replacing the cigarette that dropped from his lips with a new one. Charon lit this one up too and Knox grasped the hand that held the light, remembering the way the same hand in all its imperfections had held him the previous night. He traced the veins till it reached a dent in the flesh; the gash from which he drank the lifejuice…

"I know how it happened…" Knox's voice trailed off. "Him. His blood." Knox spoke and it sounded breathless in his ears. "When Charon shot me, he made me drink his blood. It healed the wound. Healed me. But…" Knox inhaled. "That's how…maybe…how it happened…You think it makes sense, Doc? Is that possible?" Doc didn't answer right away but stood watching Knox's interactions with his bodyguard. Knox pressed the hand where the gash had been on his lips and re-enacted the scene in his mind. "Ever since, my body feels like I'm being pulled apart…like I'm tired but I ain't. Like I'm weak but I'm stronger than anything. And I feel tingly…like I'm irradiated."

"That was more than a week ago," Doc said and Knox nodded. "That has been in your system and…there aren't any outward changes. Stronger, you say?" Doc muttered to himself for a while longer before he turned to the smoothskin and just stared. For a very long time.

"What is it, Doc?" Knox finished his smoke.

"I think you might just be the cure."


	23. Chapter 23

"Relax, smoothskin."

"Sorry, Doc," Knox murmured. He unclenched his fist and Doc Barrows pierced the skin. Knox watched the syringe fill up with his blood and then, the long needle left the wound. He accepted the band-aid Nurse gave him and let her put it on him. Gotta save that lifejuice for the cure.

"You'd like to know that he's stable for the moment." Knox nodded as he watched the way Patches gave in to non-alcohol induced slumber. His hair had grown to his shoulders now and the sickly green had lessened its vividness. His myocardium beat strongly according to the machine. Knox let slip a smile. "How about you? Are you stable?"

"Shit. Doc. This again?"

"I'm just asking if you're doing fine –"

"In my head, you mean…"

"In your head…everything."

"I'm great, Doc. Awesome." He touched his lips when he felt his lips crave for a cigarette. He would not give in. Gotta stay alive for the cure. Charon brushed his shoulder. Gotta stay alive for other people as well. "Fucking awesome."

* * *

_Note: Thanks for reading. I found this difficult to write, because I had to tweak a lot of characters and in the end they sounded OOC in a lot of ways. Well, it was fun, though. And thank you for reading this. Comments and reviews are greatly appreciated. _


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